Sketches of India

My friend with whom we are to stay has sent an Uber for us. She had decided she should equip the driver with the names Seeta Aur Geeta inscribed on cardboard but then changed her mind at the last minute.

“Would you have guessed it was you?” she asked, laughing, when we finally landed at her gate half an hour later.

“After I got over the momentary disorientation, yeah I might have. You should have done it!” I replied, laughing.

The joke wouldn’t have been completely lost on an Indo- Trinidadian who had grown up on films and the music that had been popular in the 60s and 70s. Even in this modern era, the Indian radio stations in Trinidad still air melodies from the film Seeta aur Geeta like O Saathi Chal.

The sign would have been a fitting welcome to Bombay.

Bombay or Mumbai, as it is now known, is securely ingrained in the imagination of many Indo-Trinidadians.

The city lives in songs like Bombay ke Dulahin; in names like Bombay Store and the Bombay Dream Fashion shows; in expressions like “fair like them Bombay Indian” and in the way that Indo-Trinidadians like, some other cultures, compare local singers and musicians by naming them after popular Indian counterparts. We have had the “local Lata Mangeshkar” and the “local Rafi”, so dubbed after famous playback singers, names that suggest that the local voices are similar to those Indian counterparts, no doubt also a marketing strategy to attract local audiences to concerts.

East Indian identities have been thus legitimised in large part, since the coming of Indian films to Trinidad in 1935, through popular Hindi film actors and singers. But surprisingly it is not Mumbai that features in the imagination of many Indo-Trinidadian except as a place where they can see Amitabh Bachchan or Shah Rukh Khan.

As radio personality Hans Hanoomansingh commented in an interview, “Indian tours to India are usually religious and Hindu in content, where temples and shopping are main focal points.” So, even while Mumbai or Bombay, is a part of a tour’s itinerary, for Indo- Trinidadians places like Varanasi, Mathura and Haridwar are where the spirit of India lies.

Mumbai city is an island and was one of the main ports through which traders and touring musicians entered India. It is a syncretic mixture of regions and religions, a feature of the city that would filter into the musical life of the pre-film years and eventually into the film music of Bollywood. The Taj Hotel, an imposing structure that overlooks the sea and gives off a colonial air, was a space that had been home to prominent jazz artistes in India, many of whom later filtered into the film industry. It was recently the central subject in Naresh Fernandes’ Taj Mahal Foxtrot, an extremely interesting exploration of Bombay’s Jazz Age and the musicians who made it possible.

The city’s colonial past is still alive in architecture – churches, the Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus, a sort of Indian Waterloo Station – the dress, and languages of the Mumbaikars as the people of Mumbai call themselves.

The city eases a first-timer into India with its relative freedom and Western outlook. It is the paradox of Mumbai – Western in outlook in many cases yet Indian in its habits, politics and the regional variety of people who live there.

On the morning of our arrival, we are taken to breakfast at the Smoke House Deli, Pali Hill, one of the more affluent areas in Bandra West and home to some well-known Bollywood actors and actresses. Crossing the road was an exercise in strategic planning.

In Mumbai, honking horns simply signal, “Move out of the way!” People have become so accustomed to it that when I asked some friends why people honked their horns for no apparent reason, they were all surprised.

“Do they? We never noticed.” The honking horns are so bad that there are signs around apartments advising “No Honking”. In one area a sign says “No Honking Please. People Live Here”. But the honking persists. The day begins and ends with it. Cycles, cars, auto rickshaws speed past, highpitched horns in session.

If by chance one is caught midstep, the vehicle passes around you and you continue along your way. One is always forced to push forward. Stopping means you either get knocked down or cursed. The boundaries of rich and poor are blurred here. No one cares who you are. They are all simply trying to get from one place to the other, even if “the other” is just three feet away.

Bandra West is our home for a few weeks. It is the location of Mehboob Studio noted for the film Mother India; the home of many major actors like Shah Rukh Khan and Aamir Khan and musicians.

On the second morning of our arrival, we arose early to attend the Kabir festival on the beach.

The auto rickshaw took us from Turner Road to Naushad Ali Marg (locals still call it Carter Road), the latter so named after the music director Naushad Ali, known for bringing classical music into the popular film format.

His use of Western and Indian instruments to create an early fusion of form, distinguishes his work and is also a testament of the syncretic nature of Mumbai city itself. His music still resonates among the Indo-Trinidadian community in songs like the immortal Suhani Raat and music from films like Mughal-e-Azam and Baiju Bawra.

Naushad’s home still bears his name on one of the pillars of the gateway. It looks over to the sea where we are now walking, enjoying the smoggy morning air. It always looks like an overcast day in Mumbai.

There are already some morning joggers, boys and girls in T-shirts, shorts and track pants jogging past the satsangh that is in progress. There is a circle of people around the singers and musicians seated on the floor. We stand, looking over the circle. It is an informal gathering of people who are just there to enjoy the music and contribute their voices to the experience. Kabir is all-inclusive. A girl spontaneously gets up and enters the circle to dance to the singing.

At the end of this promenade, there is a fishing community.

Bandra was once a small fishing village inhabited by the Kolis (Hindu fishermen) before being taken over by the Portuguese and British. Today, names like Fonseca, Gonzales and De Souza are as popular as Singh, Banerjee and Engineer. This is India in a nutshell.

On another evening on one of our daily walks, we visit the Mount Mary Church, one of the historic churches built in the late eighteenth century. Outside its gates there are stalls where trinkets are sold. One of the more intriguing baskets are the wishes, crafted into wax images and sold to be offered at the altar inside.

Outside the door of the church a sign reads “Please Do Not Leave Your Footwear Outside The Church Door. They Might Go Missing”. It caters, I am informed, to the Hindus who also come here to worship. Yet there are some shoes outside the doorway.

Religious spaces are ubiquitous in Mumbai.

Roadside shrines, tile-work that feature Hindu gods and goddesses along with Sikh and Christian imagery are common along walls lining pavements. As we walk along Bandstand, another seafront promenade, I look at the lives scattered along the beach - the elderly, many of whom frequent these beach front areas to walk and exercise; the young; couples huddled on rocks in the distance, and labourers living in makeshift homes while they work on the construction of the beachfront for the enjoyment of everyone, their washing spread out on rocks at the back of the signs that say “No bathing, No washing of clothes, No spitting”.

One cannot help but notice the easy syncretic nature of this area. The seafront is a meeting place for everyone, a sort of equalising space.

Even while at the back of me, crowds gather across the street in front of Shah Rukh Khan’s home to catch a glimpse of him, there are those who are simply interested in an evening stroll or chai (tea) that the tea sellers are walking around selling, or the sweet potatoes grilling on coals.

It is a crowded, chaotic, colourful city where people jostle for space, where crossing the road itself is an Indian experience. Yet there is much more to this. It is the city of opportunity.

For us here in Trinidad, this is the city that has produced the music and films that form a part of the Indian heritage in Trinidad.

Yet, if one looks closely, one can easily find elements of the West and East skilfully pieced together to create yet another form of Indian identity.