Bombay Heritage Walk 2 - Big Bazaar

BIG BAZAAR

The sun was shining so brightly that one could have easily mistaken it for a day in mid May. As we approached the Sand Brown Building of Crawford Market – resplendent with its old clock tower and imposing facades, I could not help but wonder about the journey of our maximum city over the years.

One small city Mumbai, named after Mumbadevi – the local goddess of the Koli’s – made up of an archipelago of seven islands. Guarded by 5 Godesses - Mumbadevi, Sitaladevi, Prabhadevi, Kalbadevi, Gavdevi.
Mumbai was inhabited mostly by fishermen, sailing between the warm bays in lazy boats with flying white sails and rusty orange brown anchors. And watching over all of them was Mumba Devi the patron goddess of their home who they reverently referred to as “Mumba Aai” where “Aai” stands for Mother.
Then came the invaders. First from within and then from outside.
The Portuguese were the first foreign invaders to sail the seven seas and claim the seven sisters. They named the city “Bom Bai” which meant “Good Bay”.
And then there was romance, the common inflection point in many stories…an English King- King Charles II married a Portuguese Princess – Catherine Braganza and got Mumbai as a wedding gift.

The Britishers were quick to arrive and were expert planners and cityscapers. They built a fort on the main island guarded by a moat and a gate. At the border of this fort and the local settlement stood- an imposing market. Crawford Market – named after Arthur Crawford, the first municipal commissioner of the city. This was also the first building in India to be lit up by electricity in 1882. The Crawford market is a stones throw away from the JJ School of Art – that houses the Kipling cottage where Rudyard Kipling was born. Infact, his father Lockwood Kipling designed the impressive structure of the Crawford Market.

The market was utterly lively and resonated with a gregarious vibe, the friendly bantering of vegetable and fruit sellers and a plethora of sounds, colors and smells that infused you once within.
At the center of the market was a fountain, now deserted but that must have once been the crowing glory of this market. I could almost see Englishmen tipping their hats to the ladies, and vendors and sellers sitting and negotiating important deals around the cascading water and secret lovers throwing coins into it and making wishes. I could not help but wonder how shopping in this market and rubbing shoulders with the Bristish and the Indians must have been in the days of the independence movement with the air was thick with conspiracy and resolute.

I especially liked the tall skylights with beaming white sunshine that one could see dust dancing in. And the brown Kurla stones that seem like they would absorb all the negative energy and reflect back hope and enthusiasm which are the only two feelings one must have while picking veggies and condiments for a special meal.

The King of Fruits is here already !

Skylights galore...

Chinese apples which Madhav swore were California apples !

The market is a sight to see at the peak hours. It has lanes that house a Fruit Market, A pet Market, A Cane market, A meat market and a Grocery market. I was unsually reminded of my high school French textbook that has these chapters titled “ Boucherie” “Charcuterie”, “Epicerie”,”Boulangerie”.

I think this is a great place to take kids to. The sheer amount of energy and enthusiasm that resides in this market complete with the different colorful produce and especially the pet market would make it one heck of an interesting trip.
Keeping guard at the periphery of these crowded bazaars is the Jama Masjid and the Minara Masjid.
Infact one of the best moments on the walk was a spot when I realized infact how close the Jama Masjid and Mumbadevi temple actually were. I could hear the sounds of namaaz floating in the air even as I walked into the center hall of Mumbadevi and the temple bells started ringing.

Jama Masjid
The Jama Masjid was originally built at Dongri. It is the first mosque in Mumbai.
However it was demolished in 1770 under British orders that forbade any building from being built too close to the Fort. The present masjid was completed by 1802. You cannot miss the beautiful white minarets rising high above the packed streets– gleaming a whispery silver in the evening light. Interestingly, this masjid is built atop several water tanks.

We walked away from the Crawford Market on Princess Street and turned into a narrow lane with narrower bylanes each that housed magnificent markets dedicated to specific products. I think this is a strong byproduct of the caste system that prevailed in India back then – where based on the caste one historically sold a specific type of product or service.

There was a beautiful Spice Market in Mirchi Galli, Mangaldas Cloth Market in Navi Galli, Perfume Sellers, Zaveri Bazaar for Jewellery, Chor Bazaar (as the story goes – items sold here are stolen)

Ittarwala

The Mistress of Spices ?! ... The yellow ones are what the seller called "Kashmiri Lasan"

Mirchi Seth ?

Madhav at the entrance to Mangaldas Cloth Market.

Inside the cloth market

Dotted Chawls

Red Storage cars near the BEST depot.

Our next stop was the Dwarkadesh Temple. This was the find of the walk. It was one of the most spectacular ornate buildings I've seen in Mumbai. Orange and brightly colored the contrast even more vivid on the grey paved street.
One of the things that I noticed as we made our way through the lanes of history was that it seemed to be a common style for buildings to have clock towers. Dwarkadesh Mandir had a clock tower. So did the Crawford Market. I wondered if that was so as back in the day not everyone on the street owned a watch. Or was it because these buildings were making a declaration saying “Keep an eye on the second hand; I’m going to stand the test of time”. I liked the second explanation better.

Dwarkadesh Mandir

I walked the streets scattered liberally with beautiful old arched buildings, intricately designed chawls and winding alleys. I could not help but imagine Gandhiji, Pandit Nehru and dozens of other leaders followed by thousands of people in Gandhi Topis and Turbans and prayer caps wearing crisp white kurtas and dhotis walking with the Tiranga, protesting against the British Raj, the sounds of dissent and the clank of lathis. In these streets, in these gullis you could almost smell the remnants of Bagawat.

Zhaveri Bazaar

We walked past Pydhonie Police Chowki and several other police cars and patrols.

Winding our way through the decked up and shining streets of Zaveri Bazaar, flower sellers, incense stick sellers, sadhus with smeared forehaeds, bead stalls consumed the streetscape. Almost out of nowhere we saw her. The city’s patron goddess. Mumbadevi.

A tall white Temple Steeple rose above the madness of the galli’s and made her presence felt. Legend has it there was a demon by the name of Mumbaraka who wrecked havoc against the people. Moved by the prayers of the people, Lord Bramha created a 8 handed goddess out of his own being to take on this menance. The defeated demon pleaded the Goddess to take his name and forgive him. She since resides in these lanes watching over the city.

Mumbadevi Mandir

In an almost dramatic way, as soon as we entered the temple, the bells for the evening prayer started ringing accompanied by drum beats and chants. I felt like I was in divine company. It was a sign.
It was overwhelming to say the least. This goddess that the city is named after, all the citizens at her altar, each for a different reason from a different walk of life …all on the road that led them to her. The goddess was beautiful. Orange and with a stunning nath. Next to her was a pleasing Annapurna devi sitting atop a Golden Peacock. The temple complex was big and housed smaller temples for Lord Hanuman, Lord Vishnu and so on. In one corner two brown cows stood quietly and I fed them with some grass that they finished super quickly. It was one of the most peaceful enchanting temples I have been to.

Walking out of the temple complex, we walked through Sheikh Memon Street, checked out the Lohar Chawl area made famous by Mr Gawli and through one lane we came onto Mohammed Ali road – flanked by the enormous Minara Masjid. On our way we passed a beautiful emerald green masjid that we didnt know the name of. Madhav later found its name "Hamidiya Masjid" in his book "Bombay - The Cities within"

The landscape had changed. The food stalls, the prayer stalls, the vendors all selling traditional food - kababs, prayer caps and dhoop. We were in Masjid Gulli.

We couldnt find the name of this emerald green masjid while on the walk. Its called "Hamidiya Masjid"

Minara Masjid.

The famous Suleman Mithaiwala.

A quick stop at Suleman Mithaiwala, some ras malai to-go and a few packets of Aflatoon – which is their in house one of a kind specialty sweet later, flagged a cab and returned back to civilization.

All the goodies from my day at Les Bazaars. Pomegranates, Strawberries, Kesar Ras Malai and Aflaatoon. :)

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Walking through the Bazaars of old Bombay was an amazing experience. It helped me feel the pulse of the city and appreciate the fine balance with which people of all social statuses, political preference and religious inclination co-exist in peace.
It made me feel sad about how some of these areas must have been affected during the communal riots and feel a sense of indignation at the now polarized nukkads and streets.

The thread of moral fiber runs strong in this part of the city and it is these crowded streets and markets that produce almost everything that we depend on for our day to day sheltered suburbian life.

This is the maximum city.

That authors from Salman Rushdie to Vikram Seth to Suketu Mehta to Gregory David Roberts have written moving, appreciative and critical pieces about. And it is in these narrow lanes that History was and will always be written.
Not in the malls, not in the nouveau mill compounds, not in the coiffered gym studded mega building complexes, not on the roads bursting with flyovers.
But here. On terra ferma.

Where grey streets end in bursts of colors above.

Where the city gets intimate with you without asking for permission.

Where planned chaos, car honks, thousands of people, hand cart workers, chai stalls, prayer chants, flower stalls, police bandobasts are business as usual. Where green flags and orange flags flutter together both at the mercy of the west wind and look northward at the Mandir and Masjid both standing testament and guard with their benevolent hands over the heads of the common people.
For it is here, more than anywhere that the Past and the Present collide and turn into something that takes the shape of the future.

I am 30 years old

My city is Mumbai