A Matter of Voice

Every person is entitled to an opinion. Whether the other person accepts it or no, that’s another thing. But we all are entitled to an opinion of our own. We all come from different set of backgrounds and ideas. Our outlook towards life and everything that transpires is different. And so it all translates into our opinions about people, situations and life in general. So what exactly is the problem at all? Nothing really! When you actually sit down to analyse it. But yes, the problem does persist. Staring straight into our eyes. The problem of forcing our opinion on others.

Well, as much as we all want our opinions to be heard and patronised, that’s not how others perceive it. When we are at the receiving end, there are a complex heap of emotions, ideas and attitudes that make us all perceive a given opinion in a certain way. And that certain way may not exactly be the way the opinion maker hoped it to be.

We all love our voice being heard. Who doesn’t? A teacher who imparts knowledge in school is just as desperate for her voice to be heard, as a politician who wishes his voice is heard (even though just for a tad bit of time before the elections) by the people of our nation. The teacher and politician, here are deliberately placed on opposite ends of the scale in terms of their monetary compensations. For starters, a teacher in our country is indeed meagerly paid. Even the peon so to say makes more money. And, our very own netas rake in all the moolah is no news. The point being, everyone wants their voice to be heard. But is anyone actually listening. We all hear. But do we listen? The voice may be audible enough, but are the words really being understood? I’m not quite sure.

A month ago, my aunt called up my father and uncle and arranged for an urgent meeting. The siblings are only namesake. Like most of us, they too never got a chance to choose their family. It’s the almighty’s gift! Pun intended. ;) The 3 siblings in point here only share a strict cordial relationship, and emotions are far too away packed in a goody box. They do come in handy when crisis strikes. Well, what’s family for if they don’t help you when you’re down and under. 

So, as the trio met up, my aunt began lamenting about her family issues. She is a lady who is almost 30 years in matrimony and may have spent only about 3 years in marital bliss. With absolutely no support and love from the husband, she’s a self-made woman who’s managed a plush 2BHK apartment in one of the prime suburban locale of the city. With one son who’s been perpetually faking his career choice, the boy settled for taking after his mom’s indemnity business. A rather easy way out, but smart one!  He tried his hand at practically everything that his mother coaxed him to do, but his voice went unheard by the autocratic mother. My aunt was every bit on cloud nine with her high flying hatchback car that she plonked on with utmost pride, a son who was taking over her successful empire, a plush house and ya, that’s about it. But the point is, she was ecstatic to the point of delirium. We all knew it had a flip side considering her ego inflated with each passing year. But who’s to tell. The lady’s young lad tied the knot with a semi urban girl who’s caught between the traditional and modernism of it all. A rather quiet gal, the daughter-in-law (DIL) comes across as shy and timid, but her eyes oh boy! They speak a million words, much more than she may actually utter in a years’ time. Her eyes are scary borderline sadistic. And while I noticed this on my very first interaction with her, I found out that although I may voice my opinion, little is anyone going to believe it.

So, while I saved my opinion for until now, a year went by. The newlyweds went berserk on social media posting just how much, when, where, what they loved about each other. A minute by minute update of every little detail. Now that’s something eh! While the son turned all his attention to his wife, the mother was royally ostracised. Left alone to sulk and lick her wounds while she narrated her dilemma to her brothers. She began quetching about her DIL and son. And how they ignored her, how they ill-treated her, how the DIL didn’t offer her the sabudana khichdi she once made, how she just wouldn’t listen to her MIL, how she would not pay heed to any decision the MIL made, how she would be this bandit in front of her MIL and the pitiful puppy just when the son walked in, how she later became audacious enough to back answer her MIL and through all this, the son supported his wife leaving his mother raging for good. Well, these are just a few instances. But the matter of the fact was that, my aunt, who was this high-and-mighty woman, the boss lady, the dominant one with voice so harsh and strong (you have to hear her talk, the lady has a shrill voice), was suddenly thrown away from her hot seat, straight into la la land where no one cared about her or her opinion. She had lost her form. She had lost her say. She had lost her voice.

A week after I learnt about her plight from my parents, I felt sorry for her. Sorry for the fact that she tortured my mother at every step of her way when my mom was newly married. For 11 years, she fuelled the fire at my grandparent’s, and was the cause of several showdowns there. I felt sorry that she had a terrible equation with her husband and her in-laws who swear not to stand by her even as she’s left all alone today. Well, maybe if she shrieks in her good ol’ shrill voice, they’d all turn up under sheer fear. But ya! I feel sorry that she could force her opinions on her son in his early years and most importantly for the fact that she created an in-erasable mark on every person’s heart that calls her a ‘high-flying swellhead’. 

With acute knowledge about her personality and attitude, I really did manage to gather some sympathy for the woman. At a recent family wedding event when I saw her groove to her ever-so popular dance move on the hit Marathi track ‘Baaghtoy Rickshawala’, at that very moment when she rolled up for her signature rickshawala step, I had this sudden intervention, that she wasn’t doing it with all her heart and there was something missing. That passion with which she would dance away to glory on that particular song, "that" passion was missing. Her dance moves that day in fact showed her helplessness in rebooting her life’s rickshaw at all. She, was unable to start her rickshaw! There she was, my aunt who was lonelier than lonely. And yes, her eyes did voice this harsh reality.

After continued insistence by my aunt that my dad speak to her son and counsel him on the matter, the meeting never happened. My dad followed up with my oh-so busy cousin for an appointment to discuss family matters for over a month. But to no avail. Hey, may be my dad should have told him he needed a new insurance policy! That would’ve worked! Damn! And I as usual moved on with my life. And so did everyone. With my cousin’s continued ignorance, my dad realised he had no business meddling in other’s business and that his voice had no value there. So he decided to back off after about 20 days. My mum on the other hand decided to raise her voice, call up my cousin and take matters into her hands.

But just after that happened, we all were thrashed in our very backs by one update. An update when I speak today, has to be the social media one! What else! My aunt changed her solo Facebook profile picture, to one where she had carried her DIL in her hands. Yes. My aunt was ecstatic in the picture, and her DIL was happy borderline shocked in it.

I called up my mom right away to find out what’s the matter with my aunt! My mom was miffed about the fact that my aunt was always a gamer and she played yet another one like a wolf. And I, on the other hand was awed by the fact that my aunt actually had that much a muscle to carry a 50 kilogram girl in her hands! Some brawn she’s got I wondered!

A week later, we all gathered for a family party. While my aunt and her son showed up, the DIL was missing. Members of my family told me that the DIL is unwell. We all suspected a baby in the onset. My cousin blushed away to glory for all the attention he was getting that evening. My aunt was strangely upbeat that evening. When we asked her where’s her DIL, she cleared the pregnancy air and said that she has a severe throat infection, and hence couldn’t make it for the party.

Well, well, well! Now here was my aunt who had lost her voice and it all! But that very day, she seemed to have gained it all back in a flash! Her DIL had lost her voice! What better news than that! Here was my aunt who happily trotted all evening because her DIL had lost her voice & hence opinion! (Now what’s an opinion without a voice really?!) She was advised two weeks of rest and medicare. And my aunt knew that 2 weeks was more than enough for her to get her voice back to being shrill and be at the top of her game! She could win back her son and her place in the household and take utmost advantage of her DIL’s lost voice!

Now you know why the image was updated on Facebook! My aunt loves her DIL more than ever today.

That's the circle of voice.. oh sorry.. life! 

PS: My aunt will kill me after reading my opinion, but I couldn’t resist voicing it. If she’s a wolf, I’m a fox! ;)

Two is to tango.. & three is to not!

When it comes to singles, here is one term that seems just so insignificant.. Infidelity. No matter how many people they date, sleep with or have flings, here is one act that will not be held against them ever. And that’s cause they are not bound by a piece of paper or society that tags them as “married”. They can live their lives free as a grasshopper living for the day, and not care what the world has to say!

But when it comes to the married or engaged, this very term is seen in a different and crucial light. Anything that one does to harm the sanctity of marriage is seen by the society as taboo. A person who leaps beyond his/her marriage is all of traitor. I wonder why? We all seek love and affection. As humans, if we didn't get it in one relationship, we tend to hunt elsewhere to gain contentment. It’s like an instinct. One follows the heart and boy it travels – from places to people. 

Being married for over five months now, I have begun to realise the importance and true meaning of this terminology much more. No.. my husband is not cheating on me and neither am I. It’s just that there are so many relationships around me today—I've seen them in a completely different light until now, but the closer I peep, the more I begin to fathom the issues. 

In the year 2006, while I was in college as the much audacious teenager, I felt I knew it all. That I was the biggest critic of each and every thing that came by and no one could judge things, people and situations better. It was then I saw a Bollywood flick titled Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna. Revolving around the subject of infidelity, the film was crisp, filled with emotions and yet, the most silly thing that I ever saw (that’s what my teenage mindset told me). At the time, I felt as though this was the most ridiculous and overrated filmy trash that only needs to be dumped. As years went by, I chose to forget the film as a waste of my precious pocket money and left it just there.. in the past. 

Seven years down the line on this very day, the film and every scene from it plays in front of my eyes. How could I have misjudged such a fantastic subject? Well, I wasn't really the target audience for it.. As the filmmaker would put it. But then again, I feel I had no idea what the subject was all about. The true essence and gravity of the issue hits me only today, and like never before. The film spells the story of two couples that are only compromising in their marriages when they are not very keen on taking it forward and happy in the first place. The lady from one couple and man from the other, happen to meet each other and fall in love. Sex does happen but that too was shown with utmost poise as I see it today. The couple suffers when their spouses find out and undergo a self created punishment by staying away from each other and also separating from their spouses. As a classic Bollywood saga, the lovers unite eventually. But what hits me the most is their journey when they were cheating on their spouses. 

I’d only heard that marriage changes you a lot and teaches you much more than you can take. It is true. Marriage does give immense perspective when it comes to handling any situation. My very close friend T and his wife S are a classic case in point here. I've known them for six years and have seen them at their very best until now. For me, they have always been this fiercely independent couple, strong-headed, career oriented yet affectionate and most importantly deeply in love with each other. Well, their son sure stands as proof here. 

For the past six months, I've been watching them much closely. With flourishing careers and soaring pay packages, independence always existed. But their independence, followed by high self-esteem soon seemed to have transformed into inflated egos. The two had a wonderful son, great careers, a fab house, swanky car. It was just near perfect. But there remains one thing missing here.. love. The intimacy, affection and love that I saw in their eyes for each other seems to have completely faded away. Today, they are nothing more than a mere couple that has everything it takes but no love. In the rat race to succeed in their professional lives, they seem to have suddenly lost the point. 

A recent revelation is that T is involved with another woman. The man’s ship has sailed and how! He is in a relationship with a girl who was a former colleague. With T frequently making official trips away from home, pleasure often tags along. The two have had several such stay-overs by now. The girlfriend in question is still single. She is fully aware of the fact that T is married with a child. But guess that’s really not the lady's concern. Meanwhile, S has no clue about her husband’s interests. She sits up late in the office, working, yet she is upbeat about hanging out with friends, shopping, spending time with family and making lovely meals for her husband with the same zest. Being a tomboy that she is, S too loves hanging out with guys and may be having interests elsewhere too but I can somehow tell she doesn't have the courage to step out and have a parallel relationship. 

While for me, when I see them today as merely husband and wife and not lovers, it breaks my heart. If there was any magic wand that could change the dynamics of their relationship and get them back to where they started out, I’d thank my stars a million times! But who can tell. While I cannot blame anyone here, I do wonder, is it really important to have a parallel relationship when you have one at hand? Are we so vulnerable that we cannot work our way through relationships and hence keep looking for escape paths? 

Another case in point is A (aged 55) who has been married for 20 years now. With two sons both in college, he has served his company for over 30 years. With an income of about 20k per month, he manages to live in a one room kitchen apartment with his children and wife. Today I get the news that his wife is having an affair with a man from her office. They talk to eachother for hours over the phone and he visits her when A isn’t at home. A received the news of his wife’s relationship in a rather filmy fashion. The said man’s wife called A and enlightened him about the affair their spouses were having. Well, age clearly has nothing to do with infidelity. On hearing the news, A decided to send his wife a legal notice. And now here’s the best part.. the anger fizzled out in no time. Why? Well, for starters, A’s reputation was at stake and so was his children’s future. So now, although he detests living with his so-called wife, he will have to live the dead relationship only to pacify our society and oblige social norms. Although he wishes never to see his wife’s face again, he will have to do it for the sake of not being tagged as “the man who’s wife had an affair”. 

Such is the melodrama of life. Be it any age group, couples these days have little time for love and respect for their spouses. We live in such a cynical world, that although we love someone with a full heart in early days, we eventually start hating them for their little nutty habits post marriage. Why is it that we have this constant hunger for a change! Why can’t we just be happy and content with what we have! I mean people really have the time, money and energy to invest in parallel relationships. Leave aside the dual life trauma and lying to the spouse. Very few actually have the heart to stick to a relationship and work it out. While we are ready to struggle our butts off in our professional lives, when it comes to our marriages, we are all set to give it up in an instant. Well, high time we learn to value what we have and revive the magic in our marriages. If we can spend eight hours a day making our bosses happy, a few happy hours with our spouse won’t hurt! Would it?

Multiple Personality-----Disorder?

About a decade ago.. (sure I sound very old when I say that but that’s beside the point and I’m not so old.. )I was immensely hooked on to a fiction book titled Tell Me Your Dreams. Written by the notorious author Sidney Sheldon, the story revolved around a lady with a curious “multiple personality disorder”. The book snared me so much, I’d read it walking down a street, in the train (flanked by over-sized aunties and wannabe cool gals) and even during college lectures. Being a slow reader, I always liked to take my own sweet time to complete a book to live the character’s life thoroughly. Doing so brought me much closer to it and its peculiar traits.

Coming to the book, it gave elaborate and incredible instances where the leading lady swapped personalities in a jiffy. As per the author, she did so because she faced a serious medical disorder famously known as the MPD (multiple personality disorder).  As per the common definition, the terminology stands for a mental disorder  characterized by at least two distinct and relatively enduring identities that alternately control a person's behavior. It is accompanied by memory mutilation for important information not explained by ordinary forgetfulness.

Well, as much as the scientific and psychological definition sounds relevant, I feel it’s far from a disorder. Every individual on the face of this earth has multiple personalities. And we all use it to our advantage/benefit. Surrounded by so many people all the time leaves me with no choice but to observe their behavioral traits and what fun it has been! I have come to believe that we all have what they call alter egos/multiple personalities. All those mommies, daddies, sisters, brothers, friends, bosses, colleagues, relatives around you, look at them once again. Just stop for a moment and observe their behavioral transformations. They all have these layers of personalities crowded in there that show up in different situations.

As per the psychological definition, a person with MPD acts as a completely different person away from his/her original personality and even tells his/her name as different. We are no exception to it either. All of us have multiple personalities but it’s just that we don’t call ourselves different names in different situations. An MPD person may even cause harm, but don’t we cause harm to anyone in any given circumstances? Directly or indirectly. In physicality or otherwise. We all do so.

I worked with a media house in the creative department. While my job profile required me to write creatively, I took it a notch higher and studied the entire gamut of people I happened to come across. My observations only went on to prove my “We all are MPD cases” theory. For instance, my colleague would portray a completely different picture about his work in front of me and a stark contrast in front of my boss. And, my super boss had a yet another super contrasting image of my this colleague and his personality. While I too replicate my colleague’s behavior, but in much subtle format, my colleague plainly mastered the art and worked his way through a smart appraisal and a massive reduction in work scope.

Yet another colleague made me feel, he’s this super concerned, well-behaved guy who respects women like a promise he’s made to a dying friend; yet he managed to bitch about every person that walked by, tried to find out all that’s happening and not-so-happening in a gal’s life and most importantly dug out all the juicy gossips that floated around. And the best part was, the bosses and super bosses were mighty impressed because he portrayed to them that he did so only get work done from people and that he’s just another cute boy next door otherwise!

I exchanged vows with my long term boyfriend a month ago. While the happiness of being around him all the time means so much to me, all through the month, especially during the first few days after marriage, I came across a volley of MPD cases. Not around me, but within me. I had like a zillion personalities deeply entrenched. While I was this coy, obedient girl in front of my in-laws, I was much the pampered daughter in front of my parents. Quite like the one who swore not move a feather in either her parent’s or in-laws house. While I am the bratty sister, I am also that super cool friend who cares a damn about the world. While I am an affectionate niece, I’m also that witty colleague who will work her way through all odds. While I’m also the gal who will say she loves to wear Indian ensembles to make her folks happy, I am in fact the girl who only swears by international fashion trends.

Point is, we all try to portray ourselves in a certain way in front of certain people. We always want the best of us to come forth in different situations. We all hate being judged but end up judging others for what personality they have.

While we only play around adjectives like, sweet, funny, bratty, smart, witty, brash, bold et al to make an impression, we indeed forget what our true personality is. As a popular saying goes, You are yourself when you do things while you’re all alone. It’s only what you do while you’re alone that counts as your true personality. While I do agree with it to an extent, the thing is, even when we are alone, we have that subconscious feeling, that someone is watching us, like the way an actor feels when he/she is canning a scene for a film. That a silent audience in the theater must be watching him/her. It’s as if a film camera hidden somewhere around is capturing your every move. And there we go! All we do is confuse ourselves and goof up with the personality drama.

All said and done, we sure need to get out there and drop all those inhibitions we have about ourselves. All those fears we have are only causing us to be trapped further and further in this thick mesh of multiple personalities. We don’t know who we really are or what is the true essence of our personality. Where our true character belongs. Well, the answer also perhaps lies within us. All we need to do is introspect and stop using the term Multiple Personality Disorder. Cos hey, if you use it for others, guess what! You have it too!

The Real Heroines of Bollywood

As the director announces ‘pack-up’ after a long day’s shoot and the entire crew leaves for a good night’s sleep, the natives of the edit table rise to the occasion with scores of raw footage to maneuver on. And with a large chunk of these editors being women, the pressures of coping with personal and professional commitments sure brings in the stress. But the women editors of Bollywood indeed know the craft too well to be distressed. Burgeoning as the real heroines of Indian cinema, these ladies have attained much more than mere success in this male-dominated fraternity.

As the movie comes to a closure, on reminiscing the film’s best moments, all we eventually remember are these prominent aspects. The jump cuts, fade-ins and fade-outs, dissolves, cross cuts, fast cuts, montages all these terminologies have only seemed remote for a lay film fan until today. Hardly did we notice these transitions while watching a film, let alone knowing the editor per se. However, with changing times, this integral part of filmmaking has gained much attention with the editors grabbing the spotlight too. With women opting for the glitz and glam roles in Indian cinema, the ladies are seen hitting the backstage in a big way at the edit table as well. Gone are the days when we saw a geeky man parked at the edit room working on the rushes for hours together. A profession that has been a male pursuit for years now, the trend of women editors pioneered back in the 80s when Renu Saluja took the industry by a storm with her prolific editing skills. 

Nevertheless, even today, the film industry is evidently not the first choice for women owing to family woes and parental concerns leave aside the little known profession of editing. As Namrata Rao, the 32 year old award-winning editor of Kahaani confesses, “I left a stable IT engineering profession to settle for Editing. My choice was greatly disapproved by my parents who were concerned due to the volatility of the profession. But I knew this is where I belonged hence went after my dream and here I am.” Veteran film editor Deepa Bhatia who has been in the business for over 16 years now states, “Since I hailed from a business family I was not really encouraged to go this route. But the introduction of world cinema in college literally changed my entire perspective towards the profession.” A Hungarian film ‘You’ by Istvan Szabo brought Bhatia to identify the sphere she wanted to inhabit in filmmaking.

Hemanti Sarkar, editor of the most widely applauded film ‘English Vinglish’ elucidates, “I feel editing is more of a woman oriented job. It is like looking after a child even if it’s not your own. When the film reaches you at the editing table it is like a newborn baby with bits and pieces of picture and sound which don't really make sense. So like a mother you have to teach it every skill of life, love it and look after it, almost like dressing a child for the big day so that nothing is out of place. Find out his or her strong points, encourage it so that when they step out into the world they are the best. And who better than a woman to do so.” Quizzing Shweta Venkat Matthews, editor of the brutal drama Gangs of Wasseypur, she adheres patience and the ability to multi-task as the key ingredient to attain the ‘eureka’ moments. “If you have these, editing will come naturally to any woman who is interested in the art”, asserts Shweta.

Statistically, film editing witnesses more men than women, but the latter are nonetheless making a prominent place for themselves here unlike other technical departments of filmmaking like sound, cinematography or camera. Jabeen Merchant, editor of the critically acclaimed film ‘Manorama Six Feet Under’ however sees the subject in different light, “It’s not the same case today. There are more and more women who are coming out of film schools with degrees in photography, direction and sound as well. Also, there exist several female camera persons and other technical assistants who are women. It’s just that they have not cut into the limelight yet or worked with the most prominent banners.”  Aarti Bajaj, another veteran who has ruled the roost for over 15 years with films like Paan Singh Tomar also backs the stance as she states, “Behind the glare, there are a lot of women who are a part of the technical teams. All people need to do is just look beyond the obvious level of people. And in just a matter of few years they all will be out in the open like the women editors today.”

With a majority of Hindi films witnessing the leading ladies as a mere muse to the heroes, the discrimination was always evident. The tradition however changed overtime and the backstage too saw an extensive transformation. “A part of this change can be attributed to the liberty and exposure cinema offers today. People judge you on the grounds of your creativity and the work you are capable of. It has nothing to do with gender anymore”, says Namrata. Deepa Bhatia who started out at the age of 25 states, “I was very young. We are talking about the mid-90s here. The initial 5-6 months was a struggle as it was difficult for people to accept me as an aspiring film editor. But it was not patronizing or derogatory in any way; just the initial difficulty for people to accept this fact. But I never came across any sort of gender discrimination here.” Shweta who on the other hand edited a vengeance-filled action flick like Wasseypur says, “When people came to know that I edited Gangs of Wasseypur, they were not very sure and have told me, you don’t look like the one who could edit this film. They could not relate to the idea of a woman editing a film of this caliber. And that’s what makes me proud.”

While the name and fame certainly bring in much delight but when it comes to money matters, we also see a fairly painted picture here. “There is no discrimination on the monetary aspect.  Generally editors are underpaid as compared to other technicians but we also have the giants like Aarti and Deepa who make much more than the male editors today. It’s the experience and craft that gives you your worth” says Jabeen.

With not just a profession to cater to, these super women support their families and raise children too. The grueling hours at the edit table do take a toll, but the family support is what eventually pushes one to a fresh start each day. Deepa who is the wife of screenwriter/director Amol Gupte and a mother of a 12 year old cites a key pillar of strength in her family. “My husband and son are extremely accommodative and understand the importance of my work. Amol and I work our schedules around our son making sure we spend time with him. And my profession gives me the liberty to do so. There are also times when I am in the edit room and my son is sitting outside completing his homework.” Aarti who is the ex-wife of director Anurag Kashyap and a mother of 11 year old Aaliya elaborates, “As a single mother, I have raised my daughter to be independent. She is fully aware of what my work demands and we share a great understanding.” Jabeen adds, “There are times when we are invited for a family event. The in-laws may not expect my husband to attend but sure wish to see me as I am the lady of the house. But again my job allows me to juggle personal commitments too. Sometimes it’s not possible and I have to refuse which does not go too well either.”

Being a part of the showbiz that is all about glamour and flamboyance, film editing has been an invisible profession all the while. Although due credit is attributed, the job frequently goes unnoticed. But the ladies seem rather comfortable with the idea. Namrata who believes that the work should speak for itself says, “It actually causes more intrigue. When a person finds out that a woman edited a particular film, they are all the more fascinated.” Deepa who considers her job as pure meditation states, “I am absolutely comfortable with the idea as I always knew what I’m getting into. I don’t work for the limelight but just for the joy of working on the rushes.” The seclusion and anonymity of editing works to Hemanti’s benefit who confesses, “I cannot imagine dealing with the million people on sets. When I have to talk to more than two people I haven’t met before, I feel jittery. The edit room is my solace.” Jabeen however feels that after a certain point, one has to make himself/herself noticed and people should know you. And that it stands true for any profession.

As the women editors cut across all barriers, breaking the celluloid ceiling and making it to the top slots in their line of work, they have well surpassed their male counterparts over the years. “Women today are tremendously prudent and know what they want. They nudge their way along and are manipulative in the right sense, thereby opening up newer avenues in the male-dominated scenario” concludes Shweta.  

A profession that is luring more and more women to join the brigade ensuring a stable, fruitful and creative vocation, the future only seems promising for women film editors here on. 

For the Love of Food..

The city of Mumbai has witnessed an array of phases. Some that persisted and others that faded with time. They are phases that have etched in the memory of every Mumbaikar, be it the times of the British Raaj, the civil riots, the rise of the film industry, the transition from Bombay to Mumbai, the 26^th July downpour or the grand world cup victory. But there is one such phase that has reigned the city for over 100 years now but is a soon vanishing breed; and this is the shining glory of the celebrated Irani Cafes of Mumbai.

A struggling writer, a courting couple, a famed businessman, a weary labourer, a blithe collegian, a budding artist, a taxi driver or just another rover, the Irani Cafés have been a rightful haven for one and all. Savouring the delectable brun maska, Irani chai, khari biscuits, cakes, caramel custard and pulaos, one could just sit back for hours together, unwind and soak in the cozy setting of an Irani Café without a heavy bearing on the pocket.

An absolute rage until the 90’s, Mumbai boasted of over 400 such cafes in the past. Presently the number has descended to a humble ten, marking their alarming extinction.

As the city witnesses the thinning glory of these cafes, one such abode that has served Mumbaikars for over 90 years is the illustrious Britannia & Company Restaurant, popularly known as the Café Britannia.  Set in the commercial district of South Mumbai, Café Britannia is an archetypal Parsi restaurant, pioneered by Mr. Rashid Kohinoor in 1923. The quaint café is presently manned by his son, the 90 year old Mr. Boman Kohinoor and his children.

At 12 noon, on a rather sultry day, the café opens its doors for all. Afshin, (Boman’s elder son) begins the day, lighting a protracted incense stick that renders a mystic yet divine feel to the place marking the day’s commencement. The cash counter flanked by the two gateways to the café is set against the backdrop of a life-size mirror below the sepia tainted picture of the founder. Moderately lit with classic chandeliers and lampshades coupled with lazy antique fans and the bentwood chairs, Café Britannia exuberates the old world charm, evoking memories of vintage Mumbai and its simplicity.

Clad in a cream coloured shirt with beige trousers and thick glasses, seated beside a sophisticated table covered with green checkered cloth, the ever so vivacious Boman Kohinoor takes us through the good old days of Irani Cafes and their journey. As he recollects, “My grand-father landed in India from Iran 140 years ago. He started a roadside tea stall outside the General Post Office in Mumbai. Few years later, he instituted the Kohinoor restaurant in partnership with a friend. When my father grew up, in 1922 he sold the family’s share in the restaurant to set up his own venture and started Café Britannia and Company.”

“The name Britannia” as he elaborates “comprises of the word Britain. During the British Raaj, the government sanctioned only such names for new businesses that were symbolic of the British culture.” Another typical feature of all Irani Cafes is their location on street corners, ensuing due to a Hindu superstition that considered corner premises to be unlucky.

Post the demise of Rashid Kohinoor, Boman stepped into his father’s shoes and took over the business. As for the café’s peculiar ambiance he illustrates, “When my father started this café, it was the one of the plushest restaurants of the city. Japanese carpenters were employed to design the furniture which was made of rosewood. The marble table tops covered with white cloth and exclusive chandeliers added to the grandeur. The place was designed to complement South Bombay’s European architecture. But during World War II, the British commanders forced us to vacate this place, turning it into a military office. Within two years the war ended and we retained the place that had nothing but remnants of destroyed furniture.” The restaurant was revamped again, this time with mediocre furnishings and fixtures.

From serving bland Continental food during the British era to the present day popular Berry Pulao, caramel custard and a range of Parsi and Moghalai dishes, the restaurant prides in its exclusive recipes. “My wife, Bachan Kohinoor worked as a legal advisor with the army and was posted at Iran. It was there she discovered the Berry Pulao and introduced it in our restaurant, which continues to be the signature dish of Britannia”, he recounts. Presently, Boman’s younger son Romin, a chef, who inherited the famous recipes from his mother, mans the kitchen. He states, “These recipes are like family jewels. We could never part with them.”

Manned by seven waiters and seven chefs, the café has always boasted of its supportive staff. From employing Goans to Mangaloreans to the present Bihari and Muslim staff members, the restaurant sure seems like one happy family that believes in presenting utmost respect to its customers.

The crowd at Café Britannia continues to augment as office-goers throng for their lunch- the only time one now gets to savour the delicacies of the restaurant as it operates from a modest 12pm to 4pm. As Kohinoor Senior elaborates, “When I ran this place independently, we started the café at 6:30 am and went on until 10pm. But after my son’s took over, they cut the time short.”

The Irani Cafes have continued to serve countless generations of Mumbai with their authentic cuisine for several years now. But behind the packed premises and the illustrious legacy lies a poignant fact that these cafés would soon close down. In a matter of 4-5 years, Café Britannia would disappear from the limelight, leaving the Mumbaikars to settle for other options. Elaborating on the current decline of Irani Cafes, Boman elucidates, “We have tried our level best to keep the legacy going. The new generation Iranis are very well educated and settled abroad. The restaurant business does not appeal to them as they consider it very laborious and below their dignity. My children too did not wish to take forward our business but I convinced them to keep it going; one of the main reasons why we compromised on the time slot. Now I have only one grandson and he is least interested in the business. So after I pass away, my sons would close down the restaurant and retire.” Amongst the several other reasons cited for the decline, are the increased burden of taxes and the tedious procedures for procurement of licenses. From health tax to VAT to income tax, the heavy taxation is a major deterrent in running the business. “My father paid only Rs. 50 for licensing, in contrast to the Rs. 34,000 I pay today for the same. Also with the inflated prices of raw-materials, it becomes very difficult for a business like ours to survive, as we offer services at nominal rates”, says Boman. The growing apathy amongst the next generation Irani’s and with the advent of globalization, most Irani cafes have been sold out to MNCs or other popular brands or are replaced by malls. The owners prefer to invest the money received in the bargain as fixed deposits with banks and live a secure life.

Ali Irani, the 48 year old owner of another Irani Café- Koolar & Company states, “My son is a pilot and does not wish to inherit the business. As soon as I retire, we would sell the place to an MNC or an independent buyer.”

Over the years, several patrons have aggrieved the loss of Irani cafés. Rakesh Bhatt, a veteran Mumbaikar who was a regular at Britannia, dives into nostalgia as he states, “The time I have spent here with my friends during my formative years of college are indelible. We basked in the Berry Pulao and Raspberry Soda. The taste of the inimitable caramel custard still lingers when it crosses my mind. The balcony tables were our patent quarters. It is truly distressing to see that the café would shut down in a few years. I wonder whether my future generations would ever know what Irani cafés were all about.”

Sipping on their fresh lime sodas, a group of customers at the café express their unwillingness to part with Café Britannia. They say, “The best part about coming to Britannia for lunch is the gracious hospitality. Boman uncle personally takes the orders and makes us feel at home. The staff too is very patient and never urges us to hurry out. We would never want this place to close down. It’s a part of our heritage and must be preserved. ”

While the regulars of the Irani cafes are rooting to save them from extinction, the city’s present younger generation is quite unaware about these legendary cafes. Ayush Rana a collegian says, “I had heard about an Irani Café from my father since he use to spend time there during his college days. But I have never visited one, although I would love to frequent such a place with my friends that is less expensive as compared to the popular coffee shops. But all the Irani cafes today are located mostly in South Mumbai and my college is in the suburb.”

In a world where change is the only constant, people change preferences and move on to accept the new innovations. With the rising number of the current breed of coffee chains and eateries, cafes like Britannia are apprehending their extinction. As we lose a part of the city’s heritage with every closing Irani café, some owners try their level best to keep up the legacy and endow the city with more such classic memories. Offering franchise opportunities or renting space to keen buyers could work out as saviours.

Café Britannia is here to stay for only a few years now. But the infinite reminiscences and emotions associated with the space will be cherished by generations. A business based on sentiments that believes ‘There is no love greater than the love of eating’, Café Britannia & Company always lived up to its affability and is now awaiting only a miracle to save the depleting heritage as are the other remaining Irani cafes.    

Shades of a Woman..

Every person around us is different. Different in the way they appear. Different in the way they dress. Different in the way they talk, how they walk. Just Different.

Speaking about being different, I believe, what sets everyone apart is their mindset. A mindset that determines their appearance, their dress sense, the people they hang out with, their speech, their experiences, their thinking and everything about them. While some are open to changing or modifying their mindsets, others completely confine themselves.

In all these years, all the people I've come across, each of them is different from the other. No similarity whatsoever. Some are conservative, some liberal, some bored, some cute, some shy, some annoyed, some happy, some upset. All kinds. Few may speak the same language, have similar traits, eat the same kind of food, live in the same house, yet stark different from the other.

To begin with, each and every male person has a different opinion on the same topic. To elaborate, every boy or man has his own theory/funda about girls, alcohol, sports (especially cricket), business and cars. Their opinions on these topics are always different from eachother. In their minds they may agree to one another but the ego forbids them from giving in.

And now come the women. They all say that a woman is God’s most complex creation. No man would ever fully understand a woman. Well, the best things in the world are not meant to be understood but only experienced. ;) Women indeed are complex. But they are not really different. They all come in varying shades. Shades that range from being the most sorted to the most complex.

I recently attended a family function. While the occasion saw only a handful of men in attendance, the chaos of the women remains unforgettable. From a ten year old to a sixty year old, the range was extensive.

Every woman had similar traits and thought process. They all discussed food, families, friends, foes and each other. Yet they all were different. Well, not stark different, but as I said, the shades were evident. While one loved sarees, the other doted on salwar kameez. While one insisted on taking a zillion profile photographs, the other was busy profiling fellow female guests at the do. While one took hours to get dressed the other got dressed in no time to hog the early limelight.

While one was busy 'checking out' the guys at the event another was 'checking on' her guy. While one constantly fidgeted with her hair, the other let it all down sinking in her phone beneath. 

They may be at loggerheads with their spouses, yet are offended when someone says something against them. They may like someone's outfit but will take the ego way and compliment the worst dressed. They may love the food and even parcel some extra but would call it names anyway. They may thoroughly enjoy the party but still there would be that something that was amiss. 

They may all appear to be the same but indeed possess those different shades. Shades that nobody can truly decipher yet recognize.

Complex..?? Naaahh.. ;) 

City of Dreams.... Really?

Mumbai - the city that houses a million and plays host to another million (visitors). Where every individual learns about its true essence ever since birth. The city which promises to fulfill the dreams of practically everyone; the ones born here and also the ones who migrate to the city. With the ones who are born here do not really have too much choice at their disposal, but those who migrate here are the ones who need to be acclaimed. (No any offence to any community or individual) I truly wonder what is it that people really like about this city. Until about fifteen years ago, a person could atleast think about living here, earn substantial amount of money, build a steady career and yet find the time to socialize. As of today, a regular Mumbaikar still does all of these. Yet, one other huge factor that has been appended to all these is the ‘stress’. Stress that makes people go to office for sure but with a baggage and a looming burden of passing through the day. Stress, that definitely allows a person to attend social obligations but under the pressure of fixing up a smile on their face and the worry of pacifying the egos of friends/relatives. Stress that lets us attend the midnight party at the nightclub but under the fear of being caught by the moral police for a crime never committed. Stress that allows us to go on a vacation but only with the incessant emails we receive on our phones, perpetually reminding us of the impending work.

There are several cities across the world buzzing with so much activity and life as Mumbai. They too are stressed. Yet, when it comes to Mumbai, the levels of stress are simply much more. So why is it that we are living under so much anxiety inspite of so many ways that we could in fact espouse to make the quality of our life way better? Why is it that we are caught in this deep well when all we need to do is just take the plunge and set free?

They say, Mumbai is a city of dreams, especially for every other Indian citizen residing beyond the city limits. Everyone here wants to fulfill their dreams and the city apparently provides the ways and means to attain them. Well, it is true. The city does have a lot to offer and there are more than a zillion who are geared up to grab the offer as well. Everyone wants to make it big here. Everyone works very hard and struggles to get to their goals. Putting efforts day in and day out, until the midnight oil gives way, everyone slogs. Waking up way early in the morning, with no time for breakfast, swiftly getting ready to go to the office. Getting the scheduled train or bus at the same time every day. Struggling to even stand in the excessively crowded bus/train. Cramping up in an auto (after a long altercation with the driver) which is shared by strangers who are gasping for breath and sweating profusely. Standing in the long queues for hours together at railway stations only to update the monthly pass. If you are not a seasoned traveler then doing so as a ritual everytime you decide to take the train. Dingy train compartments and filthy platforms decorated with paan spit all over. Women and girls being subject to frequent molestation at railway stations and buses. The roads are specially fabricated to accommodate zillions of potholes, making the average Mumbaikar refrain from buying a new car, yet the traffic jams cease to ease out. And with all this trauma, as one reaches the office he/she is expected to perform and come up with the most innovative strategies to enhance the business. After putting in ten hours of daily work on an average, when the person reaches home, with little or no energy whatsoever, the woman is expected to prepare scrumptious meals and the man is expected to either help or complete some pending work. With Saturday as a half day working (which is as good as a full days job), there is hardly any time for rest. And then arrives the grand Sunday where the first half of the day is spent gulping down the fact that it is Sunday indeed or sleeping or just a little further, attending to an important obligation or catching a movie. The second half is spent worrying about the Monday which is the official evil every Mumbaikar dreads, while on a trip to the nearest mall. And with all this trauma and tribulation a Mumbaikar spends weeks over weeks translating into years gone by doing what? Achieving goals and earning money. And when the time really comes to enjoy the success and celebrate it, one is so tired that all he/she wishes to do is nothing.

Apart from Bollywood, nothing about Mumbai is glamorous any more. All it has apart from this is a job for every person from any background, education, caste, creed or sex. Jobs that can fetch good money but not a good quality life.

The watchdogs of our system are busy repleting their pockets and the people are habituated to living in the rut. No zest to go against the system with so much stress haunting them already. Each of us is tried tested and troubled. People have given up although they may try to put up a brave show each day. And yet, through all this jazz, everyone still aspires to scale new heights in the city. Yet there is a sharp rise in the number of people migrating here each day. Everyone wants their share of Mumbai however sweet or bitter it may be. Here, everyone wants to run the rat race and win it too. The race would never end but only if the system is improvised, it would atleast be worth the run.