TRAVEL ..FINDING HIDDEN
TREASURES IN MUMBAI
A two-hour
walk through Central Mumbai’s most crowded areas will turn anyone into a time
traveller
I DRIVE THROUGH Parel in
Central Mumbai on an average of three days a week. It is as crowded as a
crowded area can be, with pedestrians, cars, handcarts, twowheelers and buses,
cement mixers and the occasional cyclist vying for space on the roads, and
vegetable markets and fruit sellers nudging one another on the pavements.
A walk through all this
in the early hours of the evening, when crowds with minds focused on getting
home push aside anything in the way, was pure folly. But I was drawn by
curiosity and a need to better understand this part of the city that had become
a part of my regular landscape. The high-rise buildings that dot the area in
increasing numbers indicated that what remained of what once was would soon
give in to the new, obliterating any vestige of the history of the place. And
that, I told my hesitant self firmly, was enough reason to brave the dangerous
known.
THE
JOURNEY BEGINS
So there I was, part of a
small group of history seekers, gathered outside the ticket windows of the
Parel railway station, straining to hear what our guide was telling us over the
clatter of passing trains, the cries of hawkers and the general sounds that
season the air of a metropolis bustling through a working day.
It is always interesting
to know how places are named. There are always many views, passed on through
legend and history. We are still in doubt about the exact origins of the name
Bombay (now Mumbai), and Parel follows suit. Though one story claims descent
from a goddess, I choose to believe the more romantic version: that the
bell-shaped, purple flower that bumblebees love exploring, is what the area is
named after. Locally called parel, the trees bearing these flowers grew in
profusion here before humans claimed the land for houses and a railway.
Perhaps, in the 1840s, when a person set out to the outer reaches of the then
city to work on the railway, he would shout that he was going to where the
parel trees grew, and the name stuck.
Parel railway station was
once the proud property of the Great Indian Peninsular Railway, whose logo is
still emblazoned on the original building constructed in the mid-19th century.
The station was functional by 1877. Today, some of the original old cast iron
pillars can still be seen, embedded in the cement that holds the staircases.
Thousands pass by, not knowing that they are rushing past a sentinel of
history.
BRIDGE
TO HISTORY
At any given time this
old bridge is burdened: it serves as one of the conduits connecting the eastern
and western sides of Mumbai, a city divided by railway lines. Two railway
stations, the Parel station and the Elphinstone Road station, open onto the
bridge, which means thousands rush through to catch a train or on their way
out. For an entire century, the bridge has witnessed the change in its
fortunes, and borne it all with fortitude.
The
stone bridge is a wonder of engineering. Built to order, it was prefabricated
in Glasgow, and assembled here, where it stands today. A plaque on either side
of the bridge rampart bears witness to the fact that it was built in 1815. When
the rail lines had to be electrified, the entire bridge was lifted to
accommodate the new technology. The stone steps leading down to the road
below on either side of the bridge and the narrow pedestrian walkway along the
sides of the bridge were all part of the original plan.
In 2015, when the bridge
completed 100 years, the manufacturing company in Scotland sent a letter
informing the custodians of the bridge that the period of guarantee was up, and
the bridge was now no longer their responsibility.
Incidentally, the road
along the bridge reveals old water pipes, still in use. They bear the imprint,
Made in France 1927.
Will the angel of history
match the demon of development that might wish to replace the bridge with a
modern cement and steel one that can accommodate more traffic? Only time will
tell.
ARCH OF
PROGRESS
Just outside the station,
is the arch celebrating the Rahator Memorial Methodist Church. The old
building, dated 1908, is gone without a trace, but the milestone of holding
services in Marathi, Hindi and three other languages continues.
We spot another church
with original stone work, and tiled roof, this one built by John Adams. The
stone came from quarries in suburban Kurla and Malad, now built over. And the
basalt, from the Deccan, is from the still-live volcano in Mauritius, that the
continental drift brought to India. The original weathercocks stand on top, and
as we walk past the semicircle of arches, the sound of carols being rehearsed
filter through the stained glass windows.
PAST
IMPERFECT
Walking onto a path that
turns off under the bridge, we enter a quiet space, lined with trees. The
occasional scooter or car goes past. There is no evidence of the frenetic
activity we left behind just a few minutes ago. We enter a clearing which
exposes to view a building in gross disrepair. Once this was a bustling hostel
for the young men who worked at the loco workshop at Parel, which is still
functional. Parts of the stone building are in perfect condition. The interiors
have crumbled in places, and old staircases and iron fittings are exposed
through broken windows. This is an architectural marvel.
A banyan with red flowers
hiding among the leaves, a leafy peepul and the bel, which bears the wood apple
fruit: all sacred trees of India add a quiet peace to the place.
Will the railways not
benefit by giving this out to a bank or a hotel? The building can be
refurbished from the inside, and will stand for another century as a salute to
history.
THE
HIDDEN DARGAH
We walk back onto the
main road and turn off to stop at a shop where two men are cutting planks of
plywood. The shop hides the tomb of Hazrat Abdullah Shah Baba, and is
considered a dargah. The devout are allowed to enter and pay their respects at
specific times of the day. The rest of the time, the tomb is hidden. We are
informed that sharing space with a holy relic ensures the Baba will save the
space from being sold to a developer. Will it?
WE, THE
PEOPLE OF INDIA
This innocuous building,
built after the bubonic plague ravaged Bombay, when the British decided to
provide more open living spaces to a populace crammed together, is part of
Indian history. It was here that for 26 years of his life, Babasaheb Ambedkar,
the architect of the Indian Constitution, the first from his community to get a
formal higher education, the great socialist thinker who also created the
social circle in a space still existing in Parel, lived.
We climb the narrow
steps, and smile at the people who smile at us, knowing why we are there. At
the end of the corridor on the second floor stands a tiny shrine to the Buddha
and a bust of Ambedkar. Rooms 50-51 were the rooms he occupied. We chat with
Rohan, whose grandfather, Kalidas Tadelkar, was a colleague of Ambedkar and was
gifted the place by Ambedkar when he moved out. Rohan works with a travel
agency and is proud of his home. As we leave, I notice a Buddhist flag in
yellow and saffron fluttering on a pole outside. The only nod to the building’s
historical heritage.
We stop at other sights,
and it is 7pm when we disperse. I climb the stairs to the station to catch my
train. My feet are tired. But my heart and mind are rich with the golden nuggets
of history.
DO YOU
KNOW?
The first commercial
train journey in India was between Bombay and Thane on April 16, 1853. The
14-carriage long train was drawn by three locomotives named Sultan, Sindh and
Sahib, was around 34 kms in length and took approximately 45 minutes.
by Sathya Saran
HTBR2APR17
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