Don't look, I am changing
Imoved to Mumbai for the first time in 2005 when some of the city's mills were being sold for astronomical prices. The sales made regular headlines, with each emphasising the "whopping-ness" of each transaction. The mills meant nothing to me then. I couldn't place them since Mumbai wasn't mapped in my head the way Delhi was. All I knew was that Manohar Joshi and Raj Thackeray bought the Kohinoor Mill at Dadar and India Bulls bought Elphinstone Mills. There were other names and figures, but they remained just that. The only mill that had any resonance with me was Phoenix Mills — one of the first to be redeveloped — where I occasionally went grocery shopping. On the way there, from my house in Mahim, I'd cross many flyovers, on the left of which was greenery, dilapidated two-storey structures with Mangalore tile roofs and ubiquitous chimneys — once proudly marking the industry that thrived in this area, now a snuffed out monument to the past. On the right were new apartment blocks nearly kissing the flyovers.
From Mahim, I walked frequently to my favourite South Indian food haunt near King's Circle in Matunga East via the 'Z' bridge. Anyone else can briskly reach King's Circle in 20 minutes. A loiterer like me always took longer. I'd linger to watch the men at the garland shops deftly fashion intricate garlands of all sizes that would dangle outside their stalls. I'd try to figure out whether the elaborate idols that crowned the entrance to the South Indian temple en route to King's Circle were made of wood or concrete (I decided, wood); at the circle, I'd breathe in a strong aroma of coffee and wonder where it came from, and I'd brave death to cross the busy Sion road to go to my favourite idli place and stuff myself silly.
I left Mumbai in mid-2008 only to return in 2011. So much had changed in three years. The green canopied Elphinstone Mills area now hosts hulking imposters of glass and steel. Shabby SRA flats for those displaced by the new constructions face away from this glittering spectacle, as if they were children being punished in the corner. The walk to Matunga is not the same either. Just before the Matunga Road bridge, a dilapidated building that housed a chemist and kirana shops disappeared overnight. It's being redeveloped as is evident from the blue-and-white fence that surrounds the plot. A few steps ahead, looking down from Matunga Road bridge, a giant drill hums in another newly-vacant plot. After the 'Z' bridge and the garland makers, the now ubiquitous blue-and-white fence surrounds another plot. Even the temple looks like it is being redeveloped with its wooden facade hidden behind new cement idols, awaiting a coat of paint. At the Sion road, a brand-new flyover soars above King's Circle.
Change is the only constant, they say. But having to choose between run-of-the mill changes evident in redevelopment and the dilapidated but charming past, there are no prizes for guessing what I'd pick.
Imoved to Mumbai for the first time in 2005 when some of the city's mills were being sold for astronomical prices. The sales made regular headlines, with each emphasising the "whopping-ness" of each transaction. The mills meant nothing to me then. I couldn't place them since Mumbai wasn't mapped in my head the way Delhi was. All I knew was that Manohar Joshi and Raj Thackeray bought the Kohinoor Mill at Dadar and India Bulls bought Elphinstone Mills. There were other names and figures, but they remained just that. The only mill that had any resonance with me was Phoenix Mills — one of the first to be redeveloped — where I occasionally went grocery shopping. On the way there, from my house in Mahim, I'd cross many flyovers, on the left of which was greenery, dilapidated two-storey structures with Mangalore tile roofs and ubiquitous chimneys — once proudly marking the industry that thrived in this area, now a snuffed out monument to the past. On the right were new apartment blocks nearly kissing the flyovers.
From Mahim, I walked frequently to my favourite South Indian food haunt near King's Circle in Matunga East via the 'Z' bridge. Anyone else can briskly reach King's Circle in 20 minutes. A loiterer like me always took longer. I'd linger to watch the men at the garland shops deftly fashion intricate garlands of all sizes that would dangle outside their stalls. I'd try to figure out whether the elaborate idols that crowned the entrance to the South Indian temple en route to King's Circle were made of wood or concrete (I decided, wood); at the circle, I'd breathe in a strong aroma of coffee and wonder where it came from, and I'd brave death to cross the busy Sion road to go to my favourite idli place and stuff myself silly.
I left Mumbai in mid-2008 only to return in 2011. So much had changed in three years. The green canopied Elphinstone Mills area now hosts hulking imposters of glass and steel. Shabby SRA flats for those displaced by the new constructions face away from this glittering spectacle, as if they were children being punished in the corner. The walk to Matunga is not the same either. Just before the Matunga Road bridge, a dilapidated building that housed a chemist and kirana shops disappeared overnight. It's being redeveloped as is evident from the blue-and-white fence that surrounds the plot. A few steps ahead, looking down from Matunga Road bridge, a giant drill hums in another newly-vacant plot. After the 'Z' bridge and the garland makers, the now ubiquitous blue-and-white fence surrounds another plot. Even the temple looks like it is being redeveloped with its wooden facade hidden behind new cement idols, awaiting a coat of paint. At the Sion road, a brand-new flyover soars above King's Circle.
Change is the only constant, they say. But having to choose between run-of-the mill changes evident in redevelopment and the dilapidated but charming past, there are no prizes for guessing what I'd pick.
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