Mumbai

Mumbai Navigator from IITB tells you how to get from one place to another in Mumbai, using the local bus and train services. Also has maps. (Here's the old Mumbai Navigator.)

Alphonso has the full Mumbai local train timetables as pictures.

If you're looking for street maps, Google Maps has a pretty good street map of Mumbai. But it's not as good as MapMyIndia, which gives you the driving route from Nariman Point to Bandra for instance.

The Mumbai Bloggers' Meet photos are online.

Under the staircase of Bandra station lies a two-storeyed apartment. Dupleix layout, single room. East-facing, with elevated entrance.

It's 8:00am. The man on the ladder is a boot polish-walla. He's picking up his box, getting ready for work, while his colleague watches. Their families is still asleep in the single room. And in the room, along with them, is a rather cramped storage space.

I wonder how many live in such conditions. Of course, it's much better than the slums around Mahim. Still, it looks like a rather difficult life.

Yet people manage. I asked a driver a few months ago why he'd migrated to Mumbai. "Livelihood," was his simple answer. At the end of the day, there are far more well-paying jobs in Mumbai than most other cities. Despite the ridiculous rents and cramped spaces.

I was waiting for Vandana and Prashasti at ticket counter of the Andheri (E) station. Mumbai is extremely warm these days, so I went in search of a fan to stand under. I found one, but the place under it was occupied.

By a dog.

Now, I have to describe this dog. It looked like on of the normal mongrels. Not too discoloured or anything. Looked pretty young. And it was lying on its back. Yeah, sure, dogs aren't supposed to do that, but this one did it pretty well. In the middle of its sleep, it woke up, and tried scratching itself. Poor thing must've felt itchy all over, so it ended up trying to bite its paw several times over, and not always succeeding.

I didn't budge. I just watched.

While I was watching all this, this fairly well-dressed guy of about 25 had just bought his ticket, and was walking towards me. He noticed me, and noticed me looking at the dog. He walked pretty close to the dog, and I thought he wanted to pet the dog. What he did, instead, this well-dressed guy, was to kick the dog instead. For no reason at all. And walked away.

I didn't budge. I just watched.

Then this little girl of about 4 came along. Clothes in tatters, and probably hadn't eaten in many hours. She stood near the dog. The dog tried scratching itself on her skirt and leg (still on its back, mind you.) She moved a bit back. The dog followed. Soon they were playing.

I didn't budge. I just watched.

After a while, the little girl went over and joined her mother and (equally tiny) sisters. Someone else had just bought a ticket, and was rushing to catch the train. In his haste, he dropped a little red booklet. The little girl was closest to it, so she picked it up and opened it. If it had any money, I'd have been quite happy to see her take it. There wasn't. It was just a red booklet. She took it to her mother, who looked at it, looked around for help, saw me looking, and asked the little girl to give it to me, and asked me if I could return it.

I don't think that well-dressed guy would've asked me to return it.

The booklet seemed like a phone book of sorts, though it had some Hindi poetry too in it (romantic poetry, too!) and a workman's pass. A phone number was listed. I called the number, explained to the person that I had this pass, and said that I'd leave it with the station master at Andheri, and that the owner could pick it up.

It didn't work out that way. I couldn't find the station master. I don't know if these stations even have one. So I just left, figuring I'd return it the next day. Didn't happen. That week, I had to leave for Delhi. Now that I'm back, I still haven't returned it.

As far as I'm concerned, I didn't budge. I just watched.

12:05 Churchgate

Hmm, maybe it's not just the London and Tokyo trains you can set your watch by. On the way back from my trip to Ullas Nagar, I was sitting at the Bandra station waiting for the 12:05 to Churchgate. (That's 12:05AM -- as in the middle of the night.) The train was late, and I was enjoying the last of my plum cakes on the platform.

Two old people clad in khadi strutted in, and looked at the display. It said "12:05 C". The older one said, "Heck, we've missed the train. Let's go to the next platform."

"No, we couldn't. It says '12:05 C'. The train's coming," says the "younger".

The older one purposefully turns towards the big clock on the station, points to it, and says, "Look. It's 12:10. The 12:05 train has left." End of argument.

Maybe there's something to be said for the punctuality of local trains in Mumbai, after all.

I was traveling from VT to Ullas Nagar to buy furniture. Since it's an hour-and-half, I had taken a printout of an article on Scenario Planning to read. Being the gripping reading that it was, I'd fallen asleep on page 4, when I feel a gentle tap on my shoulder.

"Excuse me, are you reading this?"

Since I was asleep, I clearly wasn't. But I looked at him, just to make sure he hadn't mistaken it for a newspaper or something. He had a moustache, was wearing a blue shirt, and didn't looked like the type who could mistake Scenario Planning with the latest political gossip.

"Could I have a look?"

He sure could. The article had made no sense to me so far. If it helped him, great! He started leafing through it.

"Did you download it?"

I had. I nodded. Then I went back to sleep. After a few minutes, when I woke up to see what station had arrived, he started off again.

"So are you studying this only now?" (His tone was like, "So, are you learning to read at THIS age?")

I said, "Yeah."

"Haven't you taken any classes on strategy before?"

Now, how do I explain that I work for a strategy consulting firm? But then, that wasn't his question was it? To be honest, I've taken only one class on strategy, and I'm not really sure I understand it, so I said "No."

"I work for BPL Mobile, you see," he continued. "We had this class on strategy where they gave out this blueprint. You should read it."

Well, if he's from BPL Mobile, I have a few strong thoughts as a customer that I'd want to share with him. But then again... maybe I'd learn something. I asked, "Blueprint? What's that?"

"Oh, it's a sheet that has 7 columns. It tells you what all you have to do for a company's strategy -- from deciding everyone's designation to putting names in each of the boxes and so on. It's really detailed. It has 7 columns. You should get it and read it."

"Oh, you mean a business plan!"

"No, no, no. This has 7 columns. It's a blueprint. You should read it."

Of course. 7 columns. Should anyone spot a blueprint with 7 columns, do pass it to me. I should read it. In the meantime, I'll stick to sleeping on trains.

I give up. I've been to too many places, like Leopold Cafe, Tavern, Library Bar, Liquid Lounge, Roti, Not Just Jazz by the Bay, Buddy's, The Ghetto Pub, Crosswords, Groove, Asiatic, Hanging Gardens, some Chinese restaurant at The Leela (which is the best Chinese food I've had), etc. And I don't have the time to write reviews! Maybe I'll take it up later.

Vishnu and I tried out Indian Summer, opposite to Gaylord. It looked like one of those 'classier' places, so I wasn't expecting the meal to be any good. The variety was impressive though, so sticking to my policy of ordering dishes I never had, we tried Shahi shorba (soup), methi tikki and simla mirch besan ke sath, with makai roti and reshmi paratha. For Rs. 550. I recommend every single dish -- especially the soup. The service was good, too, and I'd rate it as excellent, except for the fact that the waiter walked up to us and asked us if we'd ordered Shahi Shorba. True to my form, I stared at him cluelessly, looked around, and said, "Who me?"

The poor waiter was understandably embarrassed. He walked to the next table to confirm that they hadn't ordered it. They hadn't. He walked back, and in the middle of all this walking up and down, almost spilt a bit of soup on Vishnu. Then he comes back, after checking the register, informing us that we had, indeed, ordered Shahi shorba. Fine by me...

The good part is, now I know how to drink soup -- move the spoon away from yourself when collecting the soup on the spoon. Thanks, Vishnu!

This morning, for the first time, I saw what the waves crash over the rocks on Marine Drive. I did see some spray on Friday as we were walking along Marine Drive, but nothing like this. It was raining, and torrentially. The previous evening, my umbrella broke. I was walking out of office, which is directly in front of the sea. The breeze blows towards office. There's no way for the wind to go except through the door. So when I walked out of the door and opened my umbrella, the breeze inverted it, and broke a couple of the rods. It's still usable, but won't stand another strong wind.

Anyway, we'd been working late last night, and I had to deliver some documents to a partner who lived at Malabar Hill. I took a taxi and sat at the front, as he drove along Marine drive to Malabar hill. It was raining, when waves crashed over the wall along the sea, and splashed all over the road, including the car, with tremendous force. I jerked backwards, but the driver hardly noticed anything, pausing only to adjust the speed of the wiper.They're used to it, I guess.

After having been stood up on a dinner engagement, Amitabh and I walked from Regal to Food Inn, which looked fine from outside. We decided to have dinner in the AC section upstairs. I didn't notice anything, until Amitabh wondered: "Anand, why is it that there's no one in this whole place except us?"

Well, there were, actually. 4 waiters, all standing with their backs to the same wall, with a tray in the hands, equidistant from each other. Looked like those thugs in movies who'd move away from the wall at the villain's orders, and say, "Yes Boss!" Our hypothesis was that the place was run by the Mumbai mafia, and was the meeting point for the shady deals in the city.

It struck me as a fabulous idea, and I started writing it down. Only to notice a waiter peering at me. And then another. And yet another. To the innocent, it may appear that they gathered to take our order (which, incidentally, they did). Neither Amitabh nor I could be considered 'innocent' in any sense of the word, though. We quickly ordered (Amitabh mustering enough courage to crib that the dishes were being served too fast), and left, before the mafia arrived.

Nothing much to comment on the cuisine. The standard North Indian menu.

Crystal is opposite to Chowpatti beach. I didn't know that, so when Bhura suggested we take a cab there from Churchgate, I boldly said, "Let's walk down the beach." It's not that long a walk, but longer than I'm normally used to. At the end of the walk, I nearly collapsed. Crystal is apparantly pretty famous for its value-for-money. We ordered 2 alu parathas with malai kofta and paneer masala and dahi. The food was quite tasty, but filling. Neither of us had space for many more rotis. The bill came to about Rs. 100.

Amitabh, Shyam and myself finally managed to see "Someone Like You" at Sterling. I arrived a bit early, at 10PM, and the show began at 10:45PM. The wait was well worth it, because it seemed to me that the who's who of Mumbai fashion were parading about the theatre. Not that I recognised anybody, but then, not that I would recognise anybody anyway. We got corner seats, unfortunately, with the AC directly above us. The three of us sat huddled in the corner, trying to warm ourselves. Fortunately, the movie proved a hilarious piece.

Dikshit and I had a 12" Spectacular Spinach 'Over The Edge' pizza (Over The Edge means that the pizza is thin and the topping is thick right till the edge. The pizza has spinach, mushrooms and jalapeno peppers) and a fettucini with pesto sauce at the Pizzeria. Fettucini is the flat pasta, as opposed to macaroni (which looks like sliced tyres) or spaghetti (noodles). I had pesto sauce at London a couple of times, and loved the taste. At Rs. 400, the bill was a little high. But we had a beautiful view, sitting at the Pizzeria, of Marine Drive. It started raining as we were there, which at Marine Drive is a sight to watch as well.

Saurabh and I had Pav Bhaji and Bhel Puri at Vittal. The place was a pretty small outfit, like the Kamaths or the Sagars. But the dishes were among the best that I've ever had. Not expensive -- we finished at Rs. 75 between us, including an extra pav bun.

Then we watched Miss Congeniality at New Excelsior. The theatre didn't have a balcony, which is pretty surprising, but it appeared larger than Regal. The movie was produced by and stars Sandra Bullock as an FBI agent in a beauty pageant. Extremely funny, and without any message, thankfully.

Sumit & I had dinner at Dosa Diner. I was fairly absorbed in a discussion relating entropy, evolution and free will, hence did not pay much attention to the place or the menu. But what remains fresh in my mind is the long green tunnel you walk through to get to the place. It used to be a discotheque earlier, and the tunnel had been painted black completely. At least its brighter now, but green is almost as discotheque as black if you ask me. But then, at least I don't wear black nailpolish (as opposed to green ;-)

The place was spacious and well lit. Considering that they served only south Indian, the variety was surprisingly good. We tried idiappam, a rava dosa with 'mushroom masala', and sheera. Tasted quite good, and came out to around Rs. 300.

I missed seeing Someone Like You at Sterling. The show was to start at 10:45PM. At 10:30PM, four of us were deciding on a go/no-go for Rs.200 in black. We figured, having come all this way, may as well go for it, and hunted for the chap. Not to be found. In the meantime, there's another offer for Rs. 250. We spend a while over it. Finally, yes, it's probably worth it. We go hunt for him again. The guy says wait, and wanders around trying to buy tickets. That's crazy! But we waited. By which time it was 10:45, and the market rates rose to Rs. 300, and only two tickets were available.

Xavier told me that the Titanic once sold for Rs. 500 a ticket. I would've thought there was something seriously wrong here, except that I'm the kind of guy that would probably pay something like that for a movie. Anyway, we walked back to Just Around The Corner, discussing why the theatres weren't taking the margins of the black-ticket sellers, decided it was a governance issue (as the manager was probably taking a cut anyway), got drenched in the rain, and still couldn't figure out who the blonde poster at Just Around The Corner was.

Having spent several hours at office, Amitabh and I walked down to the Regal Cinema Hall to watch "The Emperor's New Groove". Given that it was a saturday afternoon, and a Disney movie, we were expecting only to see a family crowd, and weren't disappointed. Tickets, as always in Mumbai, were a bit more expensive than we were used to. Rs. 60 and Rs. 80. We took the Rs. 60, and discovered that there was no difference between the two. Well, there was, but not much.

Regal is pretty spacious, with comfortable (and new) red chairs. And as Amitabh always checks out the quality of a place by the men's room, I accompanied him to hear his verdict first hand. "This is not bad, for a cinema hall," he declared. Regal is hence eminently visitable.

The movie is hilarious. Just 75 minutes of pure fun, completely devoid of any moral lessons or take-aways, and a first person narration. It's about this punk emperor (aged 18) who lays off his minister (or ministress?), who poisons him, and he becomes a llama, and the guy whose house he wanted to destroy to build a summer palace saves him, and they live happily ever after. No, I haven't spoilt any of the suspense for you, and its still worth a watch.

Amitabh, Xavier and I, after considerable deliberation on the choice of tonight's restaurant, ended up at Gaylord, again in the Churchgate area. We sat at one of the tables near the entrance, informed a (relatively young, clean shaven) waiter that we'd like a seat inside ASAP, and we'd have drinks in the meantime. Just to be on the safe side, Xavier confirmed with him that it was OK if we got a seat in-between our drinks and we could take the drinks inside. After a few rounds of explanation, he seemed to get the point, and nodded. But the explanation must have done him more harm than good, because he forgot to make our reservation.

We ordered drinks in the meantime. Amitabh, a Bloody Mary (whose recommendation is "don't have it." Incidentally, Amitabh benchmarks drinks in a restaurant by Bloody Mary. So his recommendation actually translates to "Don't have anything."), Xavier, a Margarita (he didn't enjoy it all that much either, but was less vehemant about it), and myself, a Virgin Mary. As its the first time I'm having it, I had to enquire (a) if it was non-alcoholic, and (b) what on earth is it? Turned out to be tomato juice, with salt on the rim, and a lemon hanging from a stick poking through it. The salt was tasty. (OK, I'm kidding, I fairly liked it.)

And then there was Paneer Alu Croquet, a starter that sounded interesting. Turned out to be mashed paneer and alu filling made in bonda style. Xavier walked down to the nearby bakery and bought chocolate muffins (very nice), a custard muffin (fairly nice), and a chocolate croissant (OK), while Amitabh ran into an old flame. By this time, we noticed that most people that came after us were being let in, and after a fair amount of screaming and threats, managed to get a place inside. It's split into two floors, the first overlooking the ground, and we were seated above.

At this point, Amitabh wants me to write that their men's room is pathetic. (To Amitabh, the loo is an important benchmark, again. If they take care of it well, they're bound to take good care of the kitchen, etc.)

We settled on garlic bread, vegetable Au Gratin (pretty good), Canaloni Indiana (pasta cooked with spinach and tomato sauce -- excellent), between the three of us. The service inside was acceptable. It's a smoking restaurant (pity), and as always, I was flabbergasted to observe that there were more women smoking than men. There was a bar inside, too. The food was fairly filling. On the whole, I think I'll come back here.

Kamdar's Just Around The Corner is, in fact, just around the corner opposite Churchgate. It's supposed to be Raveena Tandon's favourite hangout, so hopes ran high. Rajesh and I walked in, sat down, and started discussing the the hope that the man in a white chef hat sitting at the adjacent table would come over. After a few minutes, we figured that

1. Just around the corner is a self-service restaurant, and
2. the man in the chef's hat at the adjacent table was a guest.

So we got up, walked down the food aisle through the exit gate. (The manager gave us a dirty look, but I'm hoping it was because he was jealous we were thin enough to squeeze through.) There were soups, salads, pastries, sandwiches, and burgers. Except for the salads, the items were 75% non-veg. But the variety was fairly good, despite that. A bit on the expensive side, with sandwiches at Rs. 80, salads (a side order) at Rs. 70, and my apple pie at Rs. 45. But the ambience was nice, so were the people around. There were just 3 or 4 groups dining, while the place could seat several more.

Towards the end of the meal, a rather interesting black and white poster caught our eyes: Cindy Crawford, with the caption "I love my eggs the sunny side up." She was lying with nothing on, and her posterior was just covered by the caption. Intrigued, we moved on to the other posters (all black & white).

• The Beatles: "It's been a hard day's nite, And I feel like a hot dog."
• Nicholas Cage strangling John Travolta (clearly Face Off): "I was in line first". (This one was placed where we had to queue for the food. Clever.)
• Madonna: "Always Mad-on-a frozen creamy milk shake."
• Schwarzenneger (in Terminator): "You'll be back for more!"
• Bruce Willis (in Die Hard): "Pack me a soup-salad combo to go! Hurry, or you'll die hard for it." (I don't remember this scene -- he's on a phone in a cut-sleeves vest. Is it Die Hard 2 or 3?)
• Mr. Bean: "I can't go wrong with beans on toast."
• Julia Roberts: "Fresh salads always make me a pretty woman."
• Vivien Leigh: "Care for some mayo or mustard on your sandwich?"
• Clark Gable: "Frankly, Scarlet, I don't give a damn." (Gone with the Wind)

There was also this poster with a girl that reminded me of Brooke Shields. I wasn't sure. Since I was attracting enough attention walking down each poster and writing the captions, I figured I may as well call someone and ask them. So I went up to a cleaning boy, who professed ignorance. So did the cashier. Finally, they called the manager over, and the two of us studied the picture intently. (While we were doing this, at least two other groups who were dining, were doing the same -- while staring at us in-between.) Finally, the manager came up with a tentative "Cindy Crawford?" I had to lead him up to Cindy's "eggs sunny side up" poster, point out her mole, and say, "No way." We promised to find out who that was and get back to him.

PS: It's not Brooke Shields. In case anyone drops by, please have a look at the poster next to Mr. Bean. The caption is "Nothing comes between me and my french fries."

PPS: It WAS Brooke Shields! I got confused. And she's a Princeton graduate in French literature.

I'd been to the Samrat restaurant (near Eros theatre) with Vinod. A bright and clean place, serving Gujarati cuisine. Having decided to try only new items, We picked corn bhel and fried baby corn for starters, and makai nu shakh with reshmi paratha and rumali roti for the main course. Makai nu shakh is "cream corn, cooked in milk with coconut, coriander and green chillis". It tasted rather like Au gratin, and rather nice, in my opinion. Corn bhel was excellent -- just bhel, except corn was used instead of puffed rice. Figuring there was too much corn on the plate, we had onion rings (instead of fried baby corn) which taste the same pretty much everywhere, I suppose.

The service is what really impressed me. The waiters were always there at the right times, invisible when they weren't needed, taking orders instantly, clearing plates at the right moments, and so on. Given all this, and that our meal cost Rs. 283, it's a great place to eat.