Reliance Mumbai

In the year that I have been away, the biggest change in Mumbai appears to be that the city has sold itself to Reliance. The Reliance name is everywhere, most of all on surging power bills. No one seems to remark very much on the fact that the city may very well rename itself Ambani Town. And where the name is not so apparent, you suspect that the Ambanis are backers at the very least. The day cannot be far when, much like the fad with affixing sponsor’s names before soaps, the country itself will be Reliance India (though the Reliance World outlets may well suggest that the Ambanis ambitions are not that limited).

For the rest, there are the ubiquitous malls (I didn’t quite recognize Vikhroli), the sea link, the Reliance Metro, the hotels like the Grand Hyatt and the like. Our chauffeur and my old maid live in wadis that are earmarked for development (they hope to get a flat or at least money out of it). And though the landscape has changed, most of the architecture is dispiriting, none ambitious in scope. The skywalk at Bandra East is an incongruous yellow and green and as far as I can see does not seem to function as anything else (e.g. as a space for local art). The city itself seem old and musty, Colaba distinctly so. The bookshops are the same soulless Crossword chain everywhere - I very much missed Lotus. Bandra, which could have easily been like Sydney’s Paddington, is instead a mess of large signage and stores. In fact much of Mumbai is an endless vista of hoardings. The suburbs are as endlessly dreary as anything Sydney has to offer, only unimaginably crowded. Only its people make Mumbai, otherwise there is little to suggest that this is one of the great metropolises of the world.

The heavy rains had at least washed the city clean and the green tenaciously clung to roads, buildings, and any available patch. Nature itself is a guerilla gardener here – for all the concrete, for all the people crammed into its space, were it to be vacated Mumbai seems a city that would be easily swallowed by Nature leaving no trace of what once was.

Children's Photographs

Some enchanting pics from the Guardian, especially the last one.



"The picture shows me and my brother walking our dog. Well, our clothes, walking our dog collar! We live in the country and we spend quite a lot of time together outside in the fields. Our dog’s name is Lillie and my brother is Julius. I love our dog but I’m not so sure about my brother."

Returning home

After very many short holidays, I spent a straight five weeks in India - more specifically Kandivali and Ghatkopar with a brief visit to Kolkata. Much of that time was taken up by my grandmother who was briefly in hospital and then required care. So much happened that its been a bit difficult to unwind and record my thoughts and I hope to do so over the coming weeks. And whilst much has changed since I first lived in Kandivali, the rains had resulted in a profusion of greenery which made me remember our lane as I first saw it*. The rain trees and gulmohur remain, but the mango grove has made way for a building complex rather ironically called Kalpavriksha.

*When we first lived in Kandivali circa 1990, this lane was not much more than a dirt track with a few temporary structures. At its end lay a swayambhu Ganesh Mandir which was little else than a hole from which a shy looking idol peeked out. No rickshaw driver knew our buildings, no one knew that this lane existed. Based on the cover of her copy, my mother dubbed the lane "One Hundred Years of Solitude". Inspite of the new buildings and the changes over the years, the title often seems oddly prescient.