One balmy Bandra morning, I stand guard outside Suzette Creperie & Café, waiting for fellow breakfast aficionados. In the lead-up to acquiring a table, a vague pretence to a queue has formed, in the manner of people not quite willing to acknowledge the rigid orderliness of a line. Bandra folk seem torn between lazy repose and the necessity of having to show oneself near the premises at all. Their present consternation at having to put up with a full house eventually sprouts into fretful conversation. I hear a woman’s voice - “Well, how much longer? You know, I’ve got errands to run”. It is my initiation to the suburb and I’m pleased that it is the right kind. The choice of phrase is immediate reaffirmation of Bandra’s Catholic roots and a history distinctly separate from that of Bombay. Here, ‘errands to run’ it is.
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Increasing fondness for Bandra visits, rather inevitable given its time-honoured melange of charms, leads me on the trail of Bollywood, friends in tow. We are looking the for the wall murals of the B.A.P (Bollywood Art Project) that lie scattered across Pali Hill. In our search, we get lost in the labyrinthine byways and alleys that characterize the gentle sloping up before descending down towards the sea-facing Bandstand Promenade. It turns out to be a blessing though. One such alley eventually gives way to a courtyard of sorts contoured gently by the facades of two-storeyed houses with tiled roofs and wooden balustrades. The tree that is central to the courtyard has a sign hanging from one of its stumps. The sign reads – “Audition for Salman Khan picture. Contact 8350018942”!
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I am still chuckling about it while awaiting my order for lunch at a restaurant. Its innate amusement value notwithstanding, I see it as proof of the tangled nature of luck and serendipity in this home to Bombay’s film industry. Just as my lunch arrives, two twenty-somethings join me at the table. It is a crowded affair at this restaurant. When I begin to tuck into my meal, one of them launches into encomiums for Anurag Kashyap. While initially coming across as fan adoration, its nature abruptly shifts to that of a working relationship. It dawns on me that this is about assisting Kashyap on Gangs of Wasseypur! Having deduced this, I now find a casual conversation about what is essentially someone’s work, electric. "Anurag is so chilled out! You wouldn’t believe this but aadhe time hum bas stories sunaate hain. So, he’s given me a reco (sic) for Karan Johar’s next magar mujhe pata nahin. I like the atmosphere in Anurag’s set." In this moment, Bandra couldn’t be more about Bollywood for me.
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For all the talk about its old-world charm and artist’s village appeal, over the last five years, Bandra has entered the popular Indian consciousness as one half of an engineering marvel: the Bandra-Worli Sea Link. Yet, this does not appear incongruous as one would immediately expect in the manner of say, Montmartre being paired with the words IT and Park! Partly, one must put this down to Bombay’s ceaseless ability to make room for the new. Nevertheless, I suspect Bandra pulls its weight as a name with which something larger than life finds a fit too. As such, this engineering feat now dominates the southern end of Bandra wherever there is a view to be had. While different views of it are lessons in perspective and geometry, the predominant one I have sampled during taxi rides skirting Bandra is a shimmer of delicate white strands from a distance. No matter how often I see it, every glimpse is a veritable Darshan. On one such ride, a cabbie, seeing admiration writ large on my face, puts a different spin on the topic. He holds that on the subject of views, one group that must be vexed more than anything else ought to be the residents of the Mahim, particularly those along the seafront. What was once a view out into the Arabian Sea has now been reduced to a view of the sea link. His valediction on the topic is sparse and pointed: Bandra’s gain, Mahim’s loss (sic).
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May last year, on the date of announcement of election results, it emerges that the NDA has won. Accompanied by a friend, I am walking back to Bandra station after an alfresco dinner at Saltwater Café. Faithful to the route suggested by Google Maps, we find ourselves walking through the Muslim-dominated quarter of Bandra leading out to the impressive façade of the Jama Masjid. All through our walk, we find groups of people huddled, whispering with quiet urgency. In the bedlam of murmurs, it is hard to discern anything specific. Eventually, a throwaway sentence falls on my ears - “Aaj pata nahin har musalmaan ka vote kidar gaya hai”. Friend and I cast knowing glances at each other, perhaps in shared reflection of how this chance encounter is a peek into the minds of our populace.
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Four encounters, four whispers, each revealing a different facet of Bandra. Perhaps I have only looked at what I wanted to. There is such a thing as perspective.
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