Saturday, November 13, 2004
One of the most memorable goonight lines in my mind: the miniature (don't ask me why I used the word in this case) daughter of Captain Von Trapp in Sound of Music singing in a sleepy tone on the staircase, before a hall packed with Hapsburg's creme de la creme:
The sun has gone to bed, and so must I...
To bed, to bed, and then, to bed. That is the mood I am (predominantly) in. And yet, here I am, typing away, determined to record some little memory of what I have done for the past half an hour, sitting here, exhausted from a day of devouring Bapsi Sidhwa, but still beady-eyed, reading from the web details about this new city I live in. I know, lately this blog of mine has come to resemble a What's what in the big, bad world of Bombay, and yet I find it esential to unearth even more of this city. Call it a momentary interest, call it a prehistoric desire to find out about the habitat this caveman has migrated to in his seacrch for roots, call it what you will.
And so, I learn about Koli fisherman and their venerated goddess of the sea, Mumbadevi, and I learn about Mumbai and this place (more a state of mind?) called Bombay.
Like the fact that I'm sitting on a city that was claimed (the official version is reclaimed) bit by bit from an angry ocean titled enigmatically the Black Bay. Like the fact that my woe-begone Parel-of-the-Mills (the Thomas Hardy influence) once housed the Government's official residence, before one particular colicky Governor's wife decided to die of cholera, and that started Malabar Hill's good fortunes. (Not to worry, we still have High Street Phoneix) Like the fact that Breach Candy is situated over what was previously the Great Breach between the islands of Bombay and Worli.
Enough said and done. The encyclopedia session is finished. I have turned the last page of Sidhwa's novel, and hoped for goodness' sake that Ayah (Ice Candy Man) finds her happiness in Amritsar. All in all, Diwali has not been so bad, after all. To bed, to bed, and then, to bed.
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