Lessons from Mumbai's bubonic plague

I'll tell you an interesting story.

It's a little long, but bear with me. If you want to know how epidemics actually play out in India, and how people react to it, you should listen to this story of the bubonic plague that hit Mumbai in 1896.

It has lots of similarities with how things are playing out with Covid. Lots of learnings, particularly in how people and governments behave in times of stress. And how epidemics behave in general.

In 1896, a strain of bubonic plague of Chinese origin, came to Mumbai. First it reached Hong Kong, and then came via ship from Hong Kong to Mumbai, carried by the rats in ships. As the plague spread among the rats, the rats died in large numbers. It turns out that the rats were carrying infected fleas on their bodies. When the rats died, the fleas on the rats jumped on to the nearby humans, looking for an alternative host. When the flea bit the human host, the human got the infection.

The plague hit Mumbai hard. The ground zero was a chawl in Mandvi (Masjid Bunder area) where Bania and Jain merchants had their warehouses on the ground floor, and workers lived in crowded conditions in the floors above, with common washrooms. When the plague was discovered, the grain merchants refused to kill rats citing religious reasons. In fact, they wouldn't let the British appointed rat catchers into the grain godowns. That ground zero area, as described in British record had leaking water, it was permanently dark and damp, with rotting grains and dead rats. And lots of people.

Naturally, more people started getting infected and dying in droves in south Mumbai. The main brunt was borne by the mill workers, mainly Hindu migrants from other parts of India.

The British were familiar with the plague, having seen The Black Death epidemic earlier. They cracked down fast on further spread by quarantining, strict isolation, disinfecting and washing streets, and insisting those who were infected get treatment (they put restrictions on what they felt were quack local medicinal practices). Fairs and pilgrimages were cancelled. House to house searches were made, and people forcibly evacuated and moved to camps. They had strict inspection in train compartments, with examination of both men and women to see if they were infected. Infected belongings were burnt to limit the epidemic. A huge outrage ensued among Hindus at these protective measures.

All containment measures were of no use. The British could not do anything about the panicked local junta, who fled the city. Some climbed up Malabar hill where they thought the plague could not reach them. Some fled across the Mahim Creek to Bandra, seeking protection there. Many crosses were built in Bandra at this time, some specifically to St Roch who is the patron saint of the plague.

As the deaths continued, more people fled into the interiors, taking the infections still further with them. Within the first 4 years of its arrival, the plague had killed 8 million people, say some accounts. Others say it was 6 million over a decade. Either way, it was a very high number. The deaths peaked in 1907, although the plague started in 1896. The deaths were mainly in Western India, but also in Punjab and MP, where people had gone carrying the infection. Rich or poor, it spared no one. The mortality rate, by the way, was less than 2%. Malaria and TB killed twice as many people in the same time. Similarly cholera and smallpox caused far more deaths. But it was only the plague which caused crazy panic.

Once people started fleeing everywhere, the British realised the futlility of their containment efforts. They switched to vaccination as a method to treat it; which by then had been developed at Parel by a clever guy named Dr. Haffkine. The bharatwasi public had no understanding of vaccination. Conspiracy theories sprang up, that the British were "giving injections to poison us". Quarantine and forceful evictions from houses continued, in the interests of public health. People beat up health workers. Tilak wrote long reams of protest in Kesari about how brutal the plague handling was. One British guy called Rand was appointed in Pune as Plague Commissioner. The Chapekar Brothers shot and killed Rand and his assistant as "revenge" for the insult to the "honour" of the city's women. This scared the British into thinking whether another Mutiny was now on the cards. So they backed off a bit, and authorised native vaids to implement the vaccine, hoping for more acceptance.

Did the vaccinations mean the plague ended soon? Hell no. The bubonic plague continued to kill people for 30 years. But the numbers were only high in the initial outbreak locations for the first 3-4 years. After that, people got smarter in keeping track of dead rats and outbreaks. Haffkine institute continued to do testing and control. There was no crazy panic. Vaccinations grew. They finally recorded 12.7 million deaths from 1896 to 1957. This strain of the bubonic plague was active till 1960. In that year, the worldwide casualty had dropped to about 200 people, and WHO classified the pandemic as over. So that's what it took. 60 years, for the plague to go away.

But we are not in an exactly similar situation now. Our medicine has advanced a lot. We have also taken containment steps. Long distance transport has been locked down. People believe in teeka (vaccination) and we have implemented many large scale such vaccinations so we know how to go about it. Our count of hospitals and facilities is much better than at that time. I do not believe the current epidemic will play out like the 1896 plague. I think soon the cure will be in place and available. Meanwhile please support government efforts at quarantine and keep social distance. Stay at home. Wear masks. Don't spread it to your friends and those around you.

Photo: Bombay plague epidemic, 1896-1897: interior of a temporary hospital for plague victims.
Reference number: b1539282x
Persistent URL: https://wellcomelibrary.org/item/b1539282x
Catalogue record: https://search.wellcomelibrary.org/iii/encore/record/C__Rb1539282

A good article for data: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2555600/pdf/bullwho00328-0149.pdf

How to build an ethical design business?

- by Deepa Krishnan

I went to Kala Ghoda yesterday to meet a young man named Yazad. He is from LA, but is here in Mumbai now. The Parsi entrepreneurial streak is calling to Yazad, and he is plotting his own design label. He wants to launch a brand of ethical, sustainable clothing for millennials. 

Just before meeting Yazad, I went to the new Translate store at Kala Ghoda, and I couldn't help thinking what a great learning ground this store is. Yazad could learn lots of things from this brand.

True to its name, Translate has taken the traditional technique of ikat, as woven in the village of Pochampally near Hyderabad, and translated that into something contemporary, innovative and stylish. Urban women can wear these clothes easily, confidently, in lots of different leisure contexts. Some of the shift dresses can be worn to work as well. Translate has taken care with design and finish; the quality is easily visible. The sizing and cuts are designed for real women, not impossibly skinny models.

Clearly, Translate knows their audience, and has managed to find a price point at which the business is able to thrive. And they have found a clear design identity niche as well: ikat for sophisticated urban tastes. After their initial days in Hyderabad, they have now expanded into Delhi, Mumbai and Ahmedabad. 

Any successful design and clothing business, especially one that works with traditional crafts, needs a lot of different ingredients to work well. First, there is product creation itself. This kind of product cannot be done with just top-down design inputs from a designer. It is often is a collaborative process, with the realities of the craft interacting with the sensibilities of the designer.

The designer brings their understanding of the customer and market into the game. The craftsperson brings  their own understanding of fabric, colour, and technique. In the case of ikat, for example, they bring a very sophisticated understanding of dyeing of warp and weft into patterns. Locating the business close to the craft source is a good way to ensure there is ongoing collaboration between the designer and the craftsperson. 

But product creation is just the beginning of the story. I was telling Yazad last night that too many designers spend all their energy worrying about the product design. In the process, they forget to focus on the other things that make a sustainable commercial success.

It's hard for one person to have all the abilities to make everything work. But if you look at successful designers, you'll see that they all have sharp commercial acumen as well. They've managed to figure out how to finance their business. They've figured out pricing and margins. They've often started out with very low overhead costs, and only later taken on big fixed expenses. They've learnt the fine art of storytelling around their work, creating the necessary buzz (even when their marketing budgets were close to zero). These are fundamental entrepreneurial skills, which someone like Yazad has to cultivate if he is serious about getting into the design business. 

The other big part of the story is ethics. Yazad wants to run an ethical business. In the design world, this means paying fair wages, giving credit where it is due, and not copying designs. It means following a fair pricing policy. It means upholding the laws of the land. It's really tough for anyone except an insider to figure out whether a business is being run on ethical lines. I'm sure for every ethical design house that exists, there many more pretenders.

Running an ethical business can be very difficult, simply because it often means your costs will be higher than those of competitors with fewer scruples. How does one survive in a situation like that? It may mean you need to accept lower margins for yourself. It may mean raising prices - but then customers must be convinced that your products offer them value for the premium that they pay you. What are you giving them, that someone else isn't? Designers must answer that question with brutal clarity if they want to succeed.

In the process, you must also define who you want as your customer. And who you don't.  Here's the thing: You cannot build an ethical business that will cater to *everyone*. Do not agonize over the ones who go away. Learn some equanimity. 

My personal belief is that an ethical business can be built only when you don't really place money above all else. You need to be able to accept financial losses when ethics cost you money and customers. Sometimes really big setbacks will come and knock you off your feet. You have to pick yourself up and find the path again. If your value proposition is right, you will find that sweet spot, where customers and money will all come your way. But when push comes to shove, you have to be able to say, "This much is enough for me. More than this is greed. If I do this greedy thing, it will compromise what my brand stands for." 

I hope Yazad will find his path to ethical success. I hope he will find this sweet spot. 

Yazad is the nephew of my friend Gulserene. Last night we had dinner at Chetna at Kala Ghoda. Here are a couple of photos. By now I guess at least *some* of you want to see who this Yazad is. That's him in the maroon shirt. OK, OK, burgundy if you prefer :-) My friend Gulserene is the one with the arms folded on the table. We were chatting into the night, long after our plates were cleared.  

At last night's dinner, I had the privilege of listening to Dr. Sunil Pandya of KEM, who has been at the forefront of medical ethics in India. Dr. Pandya's wife Shubha - sitting just across from me - is also a doctor (her area is leprosy); and she has a PhD in history as well. Next to Yazad is Dr. Lopa Patel, again from KEM, whose research work on cancer has generated much controversy. She has stood firm by her beliefs. What an amazing set of people, each making a difference to the world in their own way. Gulserene made a documentary on KEM, called "Getting Better" - and she is the thread that tied us all together. More about her documentary in some other post, perhaps!

Morning routine in my parents house

This is the kitchen of my parents' home. Their day begins with two glasses of warm water, to which Amma adds a spoon of honey and some lemon.

Appa finds a knife and plates, and sits down at the dining table to slice elchi bananas. It takes a while. They will eat the bananas later, with cinnamon powder and sugar. The milk is set to boil. The filter is filled with coffee powder; and boiling water is poured into it. The fabulous smell of Mysore coffee fills the air. Once the decoction and milk are ready, the first cup of coffee is had. It takes them an hour to complete their first round of morning activities.

Recently my mother took a fall in the bathroom. It was not a major fall. But my sister, my cousin Girish and I have been taking turns to sleepover at their house for a few days, until things normalise. That's how I am here, watching these morning rituals. As I observe them moving around, I realise the mortality and fragility of the human body.  Someday, I will also get to this slow-moving stage. Will my husband be there with me, dancing this slow dance?

Last evening, an elderly neighbour heard about her fall, and came to visit my mother. "Deepa," she said, in that advisory tone that even complete strangers use freely in India "You must now look after your parents carefully." Almost instantly, I replied, "Maami, it is my good fortune that I can serve them". I realised as soon as I said it that I was parroting a cliché. But sometimes it is the clichés that seem to most closely reflect our thoughts. I am indeed blessed, that I can spend time with my parents at this stage of their life. 

My parents are still able to do many things on their own. For things that they cannot manage, my sister and I have been pitching in for the past couple of years. Our army of maids and drivers has been very handy. But in the process, the big thing I have learned is that when it comes to caring for elders, money alone is not enough. You cannot throw a nurse on the job and expect it to work well. Planning, coordination and a sort of loving expertise is required.

Many things seem small; but they are important to the person you are caring for. For example, the feeding of the crows in my mother's house is a tiny ritual, but it's important to her. It follows a fixed pattern. Rice and curd are mixed together into thayir saadam. The crows come at 10 am. Nothing else will they eat, except that thayir saadam. We have tried upma, sevai, dal-rice... uh-uh, sorry! Only thayir saadam is accepted with grace. So this is a ritual now, and it must be planned the previous day. We must ensure rice is cooked every day, and that some curd-rice is set aside for the next morning. At 10 am sharp, it has to be placed on the compound wall. If my mother is unwell, then someone else must do this little thing, because the crows cannot be forgotten.

There are a hundred small things like this, each one tiny, but each one a fragment of my parents' routine, a part of the way they want to live their life. It is what makes them who they are. It brings normalcy and comfort to them, to see these things done. I hope my sister and I can do it for as long as required.

My academic research projects

- By Deepa Krishnan

These days I am enjoying my forays into academic research. 

Economic Times

The first research project  I did was on the impact of demonetization on families living in slums. It got significant coverage in the Economic Times, trending as Top News on their website. It was also in the Top 10 daily list among the articles on the Social Science Research Network (SSRN). For a rookie researcher, this is very encouraging!

The second research project (group photo below) is about the economic rationale for giving legal title to slum families. In this photo, you can see our field researchers are being trained in how to collect data. They are college students, who live in low-income/slum neighbourhoods; so they have access to the types of families we want to interviw.

Students who live in different wards of Mumbai

These research projects are part of my  "Earn while you Learn" scheme for students. Data collection doesn't interfere with college lectures, and is the ideal flexi-time income opportunity. 

I hope to complete data collection by January; and then hopefully we will produce some sort of draft academic paper by April.

Why have I suddenly embarked on this type of work? 

I think it's because every ten years or so, I feel the need to reinvent myself. I want to learn new skills, add new capabilities to my repertoire. From my mother, I have inherited the restless yearning for new frontiers. We are nomads, she and I, we like the new and the unexplored. 

Also, research appeals to the curious child in me. It is important for me to see the world through a child's open frank lens. Without that, I would atrophy and die, like a tree that has rotted. At SPJIMR, where I teach, I attended a workshop on doing research. When they asked participants about why each person there should do research, I answered "for the sheer thrill of it". I think we should only do things that excite us. The chase for the truth, for that kernel of insight and revelation, is at the heart of all research. 

But I'm not interested in abstract research. "Knowledge for knowledge's sake" doesn't really excite me. I would like to do research that can influence policy. Watch this space :)

Staff from Abhyudaya explaining how to fill the form

After the work, the eating :) Our local shop made hot samosas for us

Party encounters

- by Deepa Krishnan

Spotted a mom with a whole bunch of schoolkids tagging along. They were on their way to our nearby municipal school. The kids were all dolled up and taking a snow tableau. Snow in Mumbai. With coconut palms :) 

I asked, "Who made it?". "Me of course!", the mom said. "What is the school going to do with it?", I asked. "They are having a party", she replied, and all the kids giggled together. Pure joy. My New Year is made. 

And then they walked off all together, with much anticipation (and lipstick) :-D

Women at Haji Ali Dargah

- by Deepa Krishnan

Haji Ali dargah has been in the news lately, because of the agitation to allow women into the sanctum. I went there a couple of years ago, when we were not allowed to access the mazar (mausoleum). There was a side-door, through which women could go up to a certain point. 

Thus far and no further

Closest that women can get to the tomb

Given the way the access is organised, with multiple gates and enough space for queuing, it would be really easy to ensure equal but segregated access to the mazar for men and women. Women don't particularly want to jostle with men, anyway. It could work just like a traffic light, no? If we can manage cars, why not humans? 

To deny women and allow only men, is a really jaundiced view of the world. The sooner we change such mindsets, the better.

Prayer area outside

I posted a series of 30 photos, showing the common areas, as well as the women-only areas. You can see the photos here, on the Mumbai Magic page. This is a beautiful shrine, and should be accessible to everyone. 

Mumbadevi Temple - The legend of the goddess Mumba

- by Deepa Krishnan

Mumbadevi is the patron goddess of Mumbai; the goddess after whom the city gets its name. But do you know her story? 

Mumbadevi Temple spire

When I went looking for more information, here's what I found: a textual reference called Mumbadevi Mahatmya.

Mumbadevi Mahatmya - the Glory of Mumbadevi - is a set of 52 verses in Sanskrit, estimated to have been composed somewhere in the period 16th to 18th century. In 208 lines, it tells the tale of how the goddess got her name.

The story goes like this:

In ancient times there was a daitya (demon) named Mumbaaraka. He obtained a powerful boon from Brahma, that he could not be defeated by man or animal or yaksha or gandharva. The people went to Vishnu, who along with all the gods, went to Kailasa to petition Siva. From Siva's mouth there emerged a shining bit of his essence. Other gods similarly gave a part of themselves. This combined to form the goddess Mumba. She mounted the lion of Ambadevi and waged battle with Mumbaraka, and defeated him. He was banished to patala (the netherworld). The goddess assured the people that she would take the title of Mumbadevi and reside on the island to protect them. 

Detail of decoration, temple walls

The poor quality of the Sanskrit and the grammatical errors in Mumbadevi Mahatmya suggest that this text was composed by someone without much education (and not much imagination either, by the looks of it).

Like all other mahatmyas, the text clearly outlines the benefits that will accrue to worshippers of Mumbadevi. For me personally, the chief benefit of visiting this temple is that I can eat the famous jalebis from the corner shop! But according to Mumbadevi Mahatmya, if you desire heath, prosperity, children, victory in battle, or the power of oratory, then it's a good idea to worship this goddess.

No dearth of Brahmins

Also, the author suggests that those who desire Mumbadevi's good graces should feed Brahmins and give them dakshina (donations). This is easily done: there's no shortage of dakshina-hunting Brahmins outside the temple, looking to tie red threads around your wrist.

Earlier texts such as the Mahikavati Bakhara (Story of Mahikavati) and Bimbakhyana (Story of Bimbadev Rana) which date to 15th and 16th century do not have any mention of Mumbadevi. Thus it is possible that this goddess gained prominence only in more recent times. 

Inside the temple

Mumbai-based researcher and lecturer Suraj Pandit suggests that the name 'Mumbaaraka' bears a close resemblance to Mubarak; and perhaps the reference is to Sultan Mubarak Shah of Gujarat who ruled over the area in the 1300's.

Late medieval mahatmyas, says Suraj Pandit, often preserve historical events through a retelling framed in a religious narrative. Perhaps the tale of Mumbadevi is one such story.

Text Reference: Tilak Maharashtra Vidyapeeth Pune, Sanskrit Sources of Indian History, Volume 1, Pages 189-198, Mumbadevi Mahatmya by Suraj Pandit 
Photo Credit: Deepa Krishnan

Mama Kane's Swatcha Upahar Gruha

- by Deepa Krishnan

Established in 1910, Mama Kane is one of Dadar's old names. The founder, Narayan Vishnu Kane, and his widowed sister, worked very hard to establish this eatery.

A lot of Konkanastha Brahmins / Gaud Saraswat Brahmins worked in this eatery. In fact, the original name was Dakshini Brahmananche Swacha Uphargriha, indicating this little eatery's roots in the cuisine of the Brahmins of southern Maharashtra. But it was more popularly known as Mama Kane, as this is how the founder was called.

Mama Kane died during the second world war; and I read a blog which said that family and employees had to wait at Shivaji Park crematorium till sunrise as cremation was forbidden at night due to Black Out.

This restaurant was one of the earliest in Mumbai to put batata-vada on the menu. I enjoy the simple thali when I go to Dadar flower market. I also enjoy the kothimbir vadi a lot. The nicest thing about Mama Kane is that it is large, with high ceilings and I feel instantly like I have entered a time warp.

Here is the old fashioned billing counter, and various delicacies which they sell at the counter.

Delicacies include Poha chivda, Phulavlela Chivda, Anarase, Karanji, Chikki, Aaavla, Paakateel Chirote, etc.

By the way, I also love Mama Kane because they won't serve you new-fangled things like Pepsi or Coke :) They have their own menu of "thanda pey" (cold drinks and sherbets), and I highly recommend you try those to cool down this summer!

How my lane has changed

- By Deepa Krishnan

When I was growing up, this lane behind my mother's house used to be empty.

The neighbourhood boys would play gully cricket here. We used to have sports events in this street. We made friends with all the children from other buildings on the street. We celebrated Ganpati. We hosted movie showings by rigging up cloth screens, and everyone came to watch.

Nowadays there are cars parked on both sides and the road has become narrow. We don't see any street games these days in this part of the road. People don't talk much to others in the street, because everyone is busy watching TV. Kids from all the buildings in this street don't know each other.

I was happy to see this girl cycling. It reminded me of my childhood, the old Bombay, in an era before cars multiplied.

Sharda Cinema, Dadar: Are single screen cinemas surviving in Mumbai?

- by Deepa Krishnan

I went to Parel with my mom and sister, and on the way back, I photographed this building with metal grille-work. This is Sharda Cinema, Dadar; and the grille-work represents Sharada, the goddess of writing, the arts and all creative efforts.

Sharda Cinema has been around for four decades now. This architectural style - do I call it Bombay Deco? - was popular in the 70's, and perhaps even the 80s. But I don't think it continued into the 90's. 

Sharda is a single-screen cinema. The arrival of multiplexes has seriously threatened the survival of single-screens in Mumbai. The multiplexes are more expensive, but they have a wider range of films on show, and they are co-located in malls, making them attractive leisure destinations.

Most single-screen cinemas are struggling. Many old city icons like Strand and Minerva, have closed down. Some like my neighbourhood Rupam Cinema in Sion have converted into multiplexes.

But some - like Sharda Cinema - have survived in the single-screen format by adopting digitization. Going digital means they can screen "first-day" releases without waiting for the old-fashioned analog movie prints to eventually arrive at their cinema (high costs of analog prints means that the distributor only produces a limited number of them, and they cannot reach all cinema venues, so smaller cinemas lose out on the attractive first-day or first-weekend business).

When I saw Sharda Cinema, the poster was showing "Brothers", a mixed martial arts Hindi movie with Akshay Kumar. The movie had been released that week, and was being screened for 3 shows each day of the week. Alongside this, for the 3:30 pm show, the theatre was also showing a Marathi film "Double Seat", another new release. Sharda also shows some hit Bhojpuri films. Clearly they understand the working class clientele of this neighbourhood in Dadar East. Sharda has 1150 seats and according to an article I read in Outlook, they're managing to keep their head above water with 50-60% occupancy. Good for them.

Will Sharda survive? Will the other single screens in the city survive? The jury's still out on this one. Many of them are still open only because they cannot be converted into an office complex, or a mall (the space was granted to them specifically for a cinema/arts venue). The only thing they can do is convert themselves into more vibrant theatre/arts venues and see if that will work.

We've come a long way, people

- by Deepa Krishnan

Today I went to the independence day celebrations at my school. And I learnt what freedom means. The girls from my school presented an energetic, physically demanding - and very liberating show. The audience - students ranging from 5 years to 15 years - shouted out their encouragement. The mutual energy was infectious and electrifying.

In an exhilarating flash, I realised something: this generation of girls has a sense of personal body freedom that my generation simply did not have. We would not have leaped with so much abandon. We would not have tossed our heads back and postured so defiantly; and if we had indeed done so, I don't know if the audience would have cheered us on so wildly. The background music was a patriotic song - a soldier's song, a man's song, really. But the girls gave it their own interpretation.

My photos really don't do justice to what I saw. These girls were not doing the usually Bollywood dances with sexualised poses. They were showing the world that they had attitude and spunk. That they were something to be reckoned with. I cheered with the rest of the audience, and wished there were more girls like these. And as I came back home, I realised something else: Change is here. Whether the old guard wishes it or not. Change is here.

My article in Mid-Day today: How to make Mumbai the top tourist city in India

- By Deepa Krishnan
 
As part of their 25th year celebrations, Mumbai's popular newspaper Mid-day asked me to write about how to make Mumbai the top tourist city in India. Here's my article. 

Recently I read a report by MasterCard, listing the top 20 cities which received international tourists in 2014. London topped the list, with 18.9 million visitors. Mumbai had only 4.9 million and did not make the top 20 list. Neither did any other Indian city.

Common sense suggests that a large chunk of the arrivals into Mumbai are business visitors. Although many meetings and conferences are held in Mumbai, we are not among the world’s most popular conference venues. Why? I think it’s because conferences are not just about business - they’re also about entertainment. And Mumbai, despite being the entertainment capital of India, has no entertainment for tourists. 

In other countries, people queue up to fork out significant amounts of money to see professionally run movie-studio tours. A VIP experience of Universal Studios costs $300; and a regular-Joe tour costs $80. The studios actively promote these tours. They make money, not just from entry ticket sales, but also merchandise sales, restaurants, bars, performance show tickets, etc. But Mumbai has nothing comparable to offer.

I think it will completely change the Mumbai tourism industry if Mehboob Studio or Film City makes a great studio tour, with movie history, dance, music, dining and other entertainment options. Just think about the possibilities! What if the entire Kapoor clan promoted an R K Studios tour? I’m told they still preserve all the costumes from their sets! What if the Bollywood Khans became ambassadors for Film City tours? 

Hall of fame in Mehboob Studio

I think Bollywood can make Mumbai not just a prized conference venue, but the number one leisure tourist destination in India for both international and domestic tourists. But none of the studios in Mumbai seem to share this vision. Forget studio tours, there is not even a daily song and dance show on offer based on the movies. What a waste of Mumbai’s potential as an entertainment hub!

Apart from entertainment, we also need to revitalize and improve other aspects of the city. We have a great art district in Kala Ghoda, which could be made into a pedestrian plaza with cafes, boutiques and art galleries, much like central Amsterdam or Brussels. It could become an attractive place to showcase Maharashtra’s unique crafts and cuisine.

Kala Ghoda Art District

Kala Ghoda Festival

The nearby Ballard Estate, with its old-world charm, can also become an extended part of this tourism zone. It would inject life into this heritage zone, which otherwise goes creepily quiet after 6:00 p.m.

Ballard Estate

I’ve always said that Mumbai’s heart lies in its bazaars and neighbourhoods like Bhuleshwar, Bhendi Bazaar, Lalbaug, Dadar, Matunga, Bandra etc. Each locality has its own charm. These neighbourhoods are tourism assets and part of our living heritage. Walking tours conducted by locals to highlight the architecture, culture and cuisine of these neighbourhoods, will not only attract tourists, but also result in a sense of civic pride and provide impetus to local heritage conservation efforts.

My article in Mid-Day

Spice Market at Lalbaug

A major part of our effort has to be towards cleanliness. Mumbai’s street food is legendary. But does it have to be so unhygienic? Why should international tourists coming to Mumbai have to constantly worry about falling ill? In Kuala Lumpur you can eat authentic food from small street carts and not get sick. The municipal authorities provide space for stalls, ensure hygienic water supply, and conduct regular inspections. We can learn from this.

Public toilets and good public transport – these are two major areas where we need to focus if we want to become a tourist destination. It’s a miracle if you can find a clean public toilet in Mumbai! The shameful reality is that tour guides in the city are constantly scrambling to solve toilet emergencies of tourists.

Elephanta Island is a UNESCO World Heritage site, but the clunky ferries that take tourists to the island have rickety motors, untrained staff, unsafe boarding practices and no life-jackets. I have personally been stranded aboard a ferry, drifting out to sea with 20 panicky international tourists. We had to be towed ashore by a second boat. The entire infrastructure around the Elephanta experience needs a major overhaul.

Lastly – I don’t think we can talk about promoting tourism in Mumbai without talking about how to develop the potential of nearby areas. Only if Maharashtra becomes an attractive destination, will more and more people consider coming to Mumbai. Maharashtra is blessed with a long coastline, great trekking potential, world heritage sites, sacred pilgrimage towns, unique craft traditions, and great cuisine. We need to raise awareness of everything this state can offer.

Public space and a sense of community - Growing up in Mumbai

- by Deepa Krishnan

Yesterday I explored Mumbai with a group of 6 urban planning experts from around the world. In the morning we visited south and central Mumbai, seeing how the city gradually expanded northwards from its small beginnings in the Fort area. After lunch, we went to Navi Mumbai, taking in all the changes that have happened in Airoli, Turbhe, Belapur, Kharghar and Vashi. I saw 500 years of Mumbai's growth, all compressed into a single day.

By the end of the day, I had developed an acute awareness of "public spaces" in Mumbai.

By public spaces, I don't only mean places like the huge Oval Maidan or the popular Marine Drive. I mean space for activities at the neighbourhood level, such as small gardens, places for people to walk or jog, areas for holding community meetings, etc. 

As a child growing up in Sion and Matunga, I had access to many such public spaces. 

Our home in Sion was right next to Sion Fort, and we spent many happy evenings running around there with friends and cousins. There was an "aeroplane garden" there, where we clambered in and out of a concrete art-deco mock-aeroplane. There was a "waterfall" which came cascading down the side of the hill, and we loved climbing it when it was dry. 

With my cousins at Sion Fort

Because of the specifications mandated by the City Improvement Trust, our building stood in a compound of its own. All the buildings in our neighbourhood similarly stood in their own compounds, and each compound had a maximum of only 12 apartments. These compounds formed another type of public space, where everyone knew each other.

There were no cars parked inside our compound, so we had space to play hide-and-seek, marbles, cricket and lagori. We plucked flowers and leaves, and played "ghar ghar".  (A couple of years ago, I came across a building in Matunga, where these girls were running around plucking flowers in the compound; it reminded me of my childhood).

Each building is set in its own compound

Our compound was larger than the one in the photo above. We could string up a net and play badminton. We hosted fun-fairs in the compound. We had a 'club' in the building, where we played carrom in the evenings. We flew kites on our building terrace, gathered there with friends to dry fatakadas for Diwali, and eagerly bombarded each other with balloons on Holi.

But the compound could not really meet all the recreational needs of its children. Older children played cricket on the streets. We were in a quiet lane. There were very few cars in those days, so cricket could be played all day long, with only the occasional interruption by a passing Fiat or Ambassador. In fact, even today, cricket is played in our lane on Sundays.

In Sion, there were many venues for cultural events nearby. We went to dance and music performances at Shanmukhananda Hall and Mysore Association. Children learnt musical instruments, singing and dancing at the Tamil Sangam and various dance schools. We celebrated Ganesh festival and Navratri in small building pandals in the neighbourhood. We enacted skits and dance-dramas for Rama Navami at the temples in Matunga. Because of all these cultural activities, we met many other kids from our neighbourhood.

In fact, when I think about my childhood in the city, I now realise how much public space was available to me! I spent a lot of time outside the home, in the neighbourhood. I now realise how these public spaces influenced my experience of the city. They helped me form friendships and community bonds, and they created in me, a sense of civic and cultural identity.

In the last 8 years or so, I have been exploring the older residential areas in south Mumbai. The more I ventured into the older districts - Dongri, Kalbadevi, Bhuleshwar - the more I felt the lack of  public spaces. The biggest difference I felt was the lack of the "compound". In the older districts, there are houses and shops, all touching each other, with shop wares spilling out on already narrow streets. These older districts have no spacious pavements. They have very few trees. There are no gardens; and there are no places for children to bicycle or to play. 

Jagannath Shankar Seth Road, going from Metro to Kalbadevi. See how the buildings are all stuck together.

Bhuleshwar Road. Shops and residences on both sides, stalls spilling over on the street, no access to pavements.

Although there are no major public spaces for leisure, these older districts do have a distinct sense of shared community and culture. Since people from each religious community cluster together, there is a cultural identity. The community somehow manages to create shared experiences, especially during festivals. Mosques and temples offer physical space for people to come together. Places like the Jain panjrapole offer not just peace and quiet but also the chance to feed and care for animals.

Here is a peep into a quiet temple at Bhuleshwar. In the compound, I often see Gujarati women chatting.

Community space seen through temple door

Here is another example: the local residents have pooled money to decorate this lane in the Chor Bazaar area for a festival. There is a mosque inside the lane.

Mutton Street all decked up

Here's another photo, this one is from Girgaon's now famous Padwa celebrations. The processions begin at the Phadke Mandir (Ganesh temple) and continue through the streets of area. 

Families watching Gudi Padwa processions at Girgaon

In Navi Mumbai, a very different sort of development has taken place. Everything is very large-scale and spread out when compared to Mumbai. The stations are huge. The distances between stations are also significant. But the most striking feature of Navi Mumbai is that there are very few people around, compared to Mumbai.

Among the most impressive places I visited was Central Park in Khargar. It has 300 acres of green space, lots of trees, open areas, a water body, etc. What a boon to the residents. So much open space, and that too, available to the common man. In a city that doesn't have good ratio of public spaces per person, this is really a welcome development.

But will a sense of community form? Will these places - with wide open streets and modern amenities produce a shared sense of civic belonging? Will people form fond attachments to their neighbourhood? It is too soon to tell.

The scale of things in Navi Mumbai is huge. This sort of scale is ideal if you have private cars to go from one place to another; but it can be intimidating when you have to walk long distances just to get home from the train station. Deserted streets with no street-stalls or hawkers de-humanise the place, and stop you from connecting emotionally with it. It especially makes things very difficult for women. A certain scale has to be achieved; yes, but it has to be the right scale, so that small communities form easily.

My personal belief is that our religious spaces - temples, derasars, mosques, churches and gurudwaras - form the cultural core of a new settlement. We are still a very religiously oriented people. Our food and dietary habits are very community-specific and we want markets which can cater to those special requirements. If an area offers the right combination of prayer house + bazaars, it will attract new residents who will form a close-knit community, rather than just a culture-less homogenous urban mass of people. Such people will celebrate festivals, set up cultural associations, and provide a sense of identity to the area. People who live there will develop an attachment to that area.

I'm not sure where Navi Mumbai's new large-scale settlements are heading, or what sort of communities are forming. I really don't know the area well enough. But I am very keen to see how it all plays out. I will be going back there, to check it out more.

"Heritage" is for everyone. Or should be.

- By Deepa Krishnan

Recently a lady from Business Standard interviewed me. She asked me the about preservation of Mumbai's heritage buildings; and whether the common man was aware or interested in it. 

I replied that there is a small, highly educated, elite group in the city which is interested in heritage preservation, but the common man of Mumbai has far more pressing issues in life and doesn't really care.

Then last week, we did a Fort Heritage Walk for a group of women from very low income backgrounds. None of them had a college degree. It was also the first time we did a tour in Marathi. So far, our heritage walks have been in English, which is the language of the elite in India.

This group of 24 women came from Pune by the Sinhagad Express. They were brought to Mumbai on a picnic by Yojak, a non-profit that works in education in Pune's slums (Renu who runs Yojak is in white in the centre). The women are teachers, they teach small children in their respective neighbourhoods, in an after-school learning program. For which Yojak pays them a monthly salary.

I found that our guests were highly interested, engaged, and motivated by the beauty of the monuments they saw. They wanted to listen to the details. They wanted to hear the stories. It opened my eyes to the fact that "Heritage" is really for everyone. You just need to talk about it in a language that everyone can understand. You need to make it accessible.

It's time to demystify "heritage management", time to make it less elitist. Time to take it to a larger population. And language is the key, I think. I am now considering offering the walk in local languages.

Maybe this is the next mountain I should climb?

For this group of 24 women, we did a free tour. Later when I thought about offering this tour commercially in Marathi, I felt that these women probably would not pay even Rs 50 per person for such a walk, and would much prefer to use those 50 rupees for their families' basic needs. So to take heritage to the public - many of whom do indeed have other pressing issues to think about - I need to find a creative way. Ideas, anyone?

Gujarati printing in Mumbai - the story of Behramji Jijibhai Chapgar and Ferdoonji Murzban

- By Deepa Krishnan

The beautiful red building in this photo is of Mumbai Samachar, the oldest continuously published newspaper in India.

Mumbai Samachar was first published in 1822, in Gujarati, and is going strong even today. The building is very well maintained; the old Gujarati typeface on the signboard is intact, and it is one of the few industrial buildings from the 1800s still surviving in the Fort district.

As you can see, the Gujarati text on the signboard says "Mumbai Samachar" and the English version says "The Bombay Samachar". On the top left, it says "Bhaaratnu Sarvapratham Dainik" (India's First Daily). And on the top right is Sthapna (the year of establishment) 1822.

The art of Gujarati type-setting is more than 200 years old. Gujarati type was moulded in Bombay for the first time in 1797 at the Courier Press; by a Parsi named Behramji Jijibhai Chapgar.  Apparently, this Jijibhai was quite the typesetting genius. Robert Drummond, who wrote a book on typesets in 1808, described Jijibhai as an "ingenious artist" who without any outside help, "succeeded in completing a font of the Guzzeratty types". 

Here is an excerpt from Drummond's book, showing what that 'Guzzeratty' type looked like in the early 1800's. It's not the same type that we see today. Jijibhai's original Guzzeraty type has undergone several changes in the 200+ years since it was first invented. Click on it for a larger view, it will be easier to read, and you can also enjoy all the folk wisdom in the book :)

Without Woman, Fire and Water, nothing is possible

Although the type-set was in place by 1797, it was used only for publishing advertisements. For a long time, there were no books or newspapers in Gujarati. There were approximately 200,000 people in Bombay around 1800 AD. Trade was thriving. The population included a significant number of Gujarati speaking people - Parsis, Memons, Bohras, Jains, Kutchis, and other Hindu Gujaratis. The time was ripe for a regular newspaper in Gujarati, to provide business news and trading information to these communities. 

This gap was filled by Ferdoonji Murzban, a Parsi priest from Surat, who set up Mumbai Samachar in 1822. His story, like all stories of pioneers, is very interesting. 

Ferdoonji was born in 1787 into a family of priests, and initially trained for priesthood. At the age of 18, he came to Bombay and learnt Persian and Arabic languages. In 1808 he opened a book-bindery, and made some money through an order from the East India Company. He decided to invest the funds in a printing press.

Ferdoonji was a friend of Behramji Jijibhai (who worked at the Courier Press), and would visit him there. Using Jijibhai's Gujarati type-set, Ferdoonji first published a Hindu panchang (astrological calendar) in Gujarati, at the grand price of Rs 2 per copy. That was in 1814, and it was a commercial success. I read that Ferdoonji's family, including the women, all worked together, helping to polish and set the type.

Dabestan-E-Mazhab, 
a comparison of South 
Asian religions

Ferdoonji was inclined towards religion and philosophy. In 1815, he brought out a copy of the Dabestan in Gujarati. The Dabestan, originally written in Persian in the mid-1600's, is a comparitive study of religions, and includes a detailed description of Akbar's Din-E-Ilahi. That Ferdoonji chose to put his earnings into this obscure work (there couldn't have been many takers for it!) points to the strength of his liberal religious views.

In 1818, Ferdoonji published the Khordeh Avesta, a Gujarati version of the Parsi scriptures, along with notes/commentary. It got him into huge controversies with the more orthodox elements of the Parsi community (I'm not sure whether it was the translation or his commentary that got him into hot water!). 

But like they say, all publicity is good publicity :) Ferdoonji weathered the storm and in 1822, he went on to publish the Prospectus of Mumbaino Samachar, a bi-weekly newspaper in Gujarati. Like the panchang, Mumbai Samachar was a super-hit. Within weeks, it was fully subscribed. Among the 150 people who initially subscribed, there were Parsis, Hindus, Mohammedans and Christians (Europeans).

Mumbai Samachar was meant for the business community, and filled a much needed gap. It featured local appointments, ship docking schedules, and news clippings from Calcutta and Madras, which were the two other important British centres at the time. There was also news from London, and the prices of opium from Canton in China.

The paper went from strength to strength, and still continues to function today (although Ferdoonji was actually forced to leave Bombay and settle down in Goa, due to his religious views).

The street on which the newspaper is located is called Bombay Samachar Marg. It is currently owned by the Cama family, and run by Hormusji Cama. If you ever go walking in Horniman Circle, stop by and admire the building. Often you'll spot Hormusji's maroon 1959 Chevy Bel Air parked outside (he is a vintage car enthusiast).

I drove by recently and saw two uniformed men standing at the gate. I'm not sure if they work there. But I was comforted by the feeling that the doors of Mumbai Samachar were still open for business, keeping the memory of Ferdoonji Murzban and Jijibhai Chapgar alive.