A kaleidoscope of men, matters & moments that make the madness & magic of Mumbai
Old is still gold
Recently a group of collegians was heard gushing about the latest Bollywood music sensation Yo Yo Honey Singh whose chartbuster ‘Lungi’ dance from SRK’s Chennai Express and other popular numbers are the heart and soul of any party. Ask any party animal.
The youngsters were going ga ga over Yo Yo and raving about his fantastic style and panache. After literally praising him to the skies they declared that he was the best singer ever to have graced Bollywood. But a middle-aged who overheard this hero worship of Yo Yo Honey Singh could not help butting into the conversation. He reminded the group that Yo Yo was not the first and the last singer to have grabbed such public adulation. Even the redoubtable Kishore Kumar was a sensation in his hay day and still is. The talented KK would have put any singer to shame with his own brand of singing and yodeling, he reminded them.
Truly, there was no one like Kishoreda, he could literally sing any kind of song in his unique rock and roll andaaz and yet deliver a priceless gem each time around. For that matter, the great legacy of Bollywood greats like Mohd Rafi, Mukesh, Manhar, Manna Dey, Hemant Kumar is difficult to emulate.
Granted Yo Yo is a rocking performer, but that is only because we have had a strong legacy of legendary singers. These singers are still alive in our hearts with their wonderful numbers. Can Honey Singh sustain his popularity like the legends or is he just a flash in the pan? Old is still gold.
Halting: A lost art
Next station: CST, Pudhil station: CST, Agla… *Jumps out*… Station CST *Jumps in*
Before the train had even halted, many women jumped out onto the station and even more got in. The sound of the footsteps lends a strange melody to the compartment. It conveys so much- incomplete work, desire to rush back home or just grab window seats in the train. As the train finally stops, many more rush in and the few still left inside, finally descend, including me.
Sometime back, one of my friends came to Mumbai for the first time. I asked him what he thought about the city and the people here. He replied, “It’s crazy. People keep rushing all the time. They don’t stop even for a second. Wherever I look, there are people constantly on the move.” With such an unexpected response, I fell silent for a moment before defending my city saying, “There are people who stop to enjoy the little joys.” What flashed in my mind was the picture of people at art galleries (that too only a handful). Wherever else I looked after that, I realised that his observation was correct. Often, even while people talk, they cut each other in their hurry to convey their points.
Maybe it’s time to halt at times, at traffic signals if nowhere else to avoid accidents. I can vouch that once in a while when we halt, say to let an aged lady or a vehicle pass, the satisfaction and sometimes even a smile that we get is enough to bring joy. After all as author Amish Tripathi says, “Rather than the destination, it is the journey that lends meaning to our lives.”
Feeling of accomplishment
There are very few instances where your competitors-cum-seniors in your field appreciate you and your work. This reporter was fortunate to witness such an incident while covering one of the stories when she bumped into a senior correspondent from other newspaper.
This reporter had visited a hospital to cover post-fire story wherein the fire victims were admitted. She was talking to one of the families of the fire victim where she met the senior reporter. Following this, both the correspondents started asking questions in order to know the facts.
However, after half-an-hour of the interrogation, they both sat to jot down the pointers. Following which, they were cross-checking whether they have all the names of the deceased, figures correct. As the senior reporter stated that it would have been nice if they had the names of the deceased and in reply to this, the junior reporter said that she had all the names with the figures.
At this point, the senior reporter just stared at the junior reporter and said, “Will you share the details?” To which, the reporter replied in positive. At the end, both the reporters were leaving for offices, when the senior correspondent said, “It’s good to know and see that you have so many details which states that you are a good reporter.”
Hearing this, the junior reporter was feeling happy and proud of being appreciated by a correspondent who has years of experience in the field.
Contributed by Nelson Pereira, Divya Nambiar, Manasi Tahalani
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Blooming Business
So what do you do if you love a little greenery around your pokey Mumbai flat? You chase after a moving ‘pedh-poudhewaala’ and bring him home and ask him to get you started off. So this roving nurseryman, Virender from Vashind, sold her, in the final reckoning, at least Rs 4,000 worth of products, a mix of plants and several dozen packages of fertilisers and a giant paver-brick sized block of ‘mitti’ along with pots, of course, in varying sizes. In the space of one afternoon, the greening of the house was complete — one lemon plant, one brinjal plant , one rose plant, one kadipatta plant, one chilli plant, one ‘basmati’ plant, one pot of lemongrass, one ajma, one aloe vera, one croton and two showy plants, one of which Virender insisted, was called ‘Mahaanta.’ Then presenting her with a bill for his labour, he asked if he could come and tend to these plants once a month, she could pay him Rs 1,200 just like the bank bigwig in the next building did. Of course, such an extravagance was out of the question so that was the end of that.
Till the brinjal (poisoned by pigeon dropping, this diarist is sure), chilli and kadipatta plants died, the aloe, ajma, lemongrass and the basmati grew wild and berserk and in the meanwhile, two shoeflower plants had been acquired by one of the family members on a field trip and needed potting urgently, or else. So she remembered a nurserywaala she had observed coming and going on the bus and one day, she walked down to his shop, which was a nursery-cum-pottery place. Vijay is his name.
He could come, but you would have to check on the day of the appointment if he was free and the visiting fees was Rs 200 plus the cost of supplies (pots, mitti and fertiliser). And that remains the system in place. He comes when you call, addresses your various plant concerns, will prune, trim, tweak all those plants that need the treatment, use fertiliser where needed and give you handy hints like – add some lemon plant leaves, washed, of course, when the water for tea is boiling and make yourself some fragrant tea and, no, that show plant is called Mahatma, not Mahaanta. Then he will neatly bundle up the discarded twigs, leaves and other assorted messes into a bag and toss them for you on his way back home. One doctor whose visit is most welcome and may his business always bloom. By Arun Venkat
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