Banyan Tree Adventures

by Keith Forrester

  I guess that this whole area can trace its origins and character to the booming economic times of the late 19th, early 20th century. These neighbourhoods do have an early 1920–30s look to them, although the foundations of modern Mumbai were clearly detectable a hundred years earlier. The abundance of mature trees and shade in these areas together with an occasional little park reinforce this timeframe. Next time I need to find a local guide who during our walk can reveal all the details and gossip behind the restrained elegance of the area.

  Heading up the 300–400 yards from Strand Road to Colaba Causeway is a bit of a shock. The Causeway, perhaps one of the most famous streets in Bombay, stretches south from the super busy roundabout SP Mukherjee Chowk, through to the southernmost point of the peninsula (although it merges into Nanabhai Moos Marg). Walking along it, I guess it might be around 3–4 miles long and is the main eastern route down this reclaimed, landfilled finger of the city. It seems to have been built as a dual carriageway, but today with all the double parking and spread of impromptu market stalls, it is another busy noisy inner-city street. The traffic does get quieter, the shops less numerous and the pavement less crowded the further south you walk as the southern tip of the peninsula is a military or defence base and a dead end, for the public anyway.

  The street and area are one of the main shopping centres in the city. There is a scattering of the global brand outlets that can be found elsewhere in the world but also a huge variety of little shops that feature Indian textiles, jewellery and fashion, home furnishings, handicrafts and accessories. I like the lack of a posh feel to the shopping; it has all the shops and all the items you might want but in that characteristic chaotic manner that so defines the urban centres. Exclusive and very expensive outlets lie squeezed between some pretty shabby, rundown premises. Plenty of eateries too can be found along the road ranging from a McDonald’s hamburger place, fresh brewed coffee bars through to local Parsi restaurants. Leopold Cafe, a favourite haunt for Western tourists and another one of the sites of the terrorist attacks on the 26th November 2008, is located on the Causeway. So too is another popular eatery, the Delhi Durbar, together with Paradise, a small Parsi outlet.

  Walking south along the Causeway can’t be rushed. There are too many occasions when you have to move off the pavement on to the road to keep moving. Even if it was physically possible to quicken things up, you shouldn’t – too much is missed or glossed over or is unappreciated. My 4–5 hour walk only covered a few miles, and even then, was curtailed because of the midday heat. Most of the locals and traders are only too happy to chat, point out things and suggest new avenues to explore. They appear proud and happy to share their knowledge and history of the area; after all, I might visit their shop and buy some perfume or bangles or carpets when we have finished our discussion.

  So I picked my way down the Causeway. It wasn’t a stroll or a meander as that suggests a more leisurely and uninterrupted walking experience, and walking anywhere in urban India is far from leisurely. I popped into the Colaba Market which stretched down to the waterside. As might be expected, it was chaotically busy but had everything from fresh vegetables through to antiques, clothing, and of course, street foods. Between the Market and Sassoon Dock – my next stop – were large old buildings, half hidden behind the extensive tree foliage, most of which seem to be undergoing some renovations or maintenance work. Military offices of one sort or another became more common the further south you went. There was a big oldish-looking building for example known as the ‘Sassoon Complex. Naval Officers Flats’. At the entrance to the Docks themselves is a new-looking monument by the Mumbai Port Trust at the base of the historic clock tower. The docks today house one of the largest fish markets in the city but visitors have to be there at around 5.30 in the morning to catch all the action – far too early for me.

  A little further south down the Causeway was the beginning of the military defence area so I decided to return. Crossing the road, I chose to travel via Wodehouse Road (or as it is now called, Nathalal Parikh Road) which almost runs parallel to Colaba Causeway. It was a good choice. If anything this road was bordered by grander buildings than on the Causeway, many of them rundown, but which I’m sure is still a good address. The pavements were in good repair and the bustle and traffic less noticeable than the Causeway. It had less retail outlets but still had the big trees lining the street and there was an elegant look to the whole area. Again it was just possible to detect this pattern of similar sized and designed residential houses, with long balconies protected by ornate wooden fencing and wooden framed windows thrown open to the weather. They must have been very grand in their heyday. Occasionally there was what looked like Portuguese inspired large buildings of one level, with green corrugated iron roofing stretching low down to the surrounding veranda. A large wooden sign stood at the entrance to one of these buildings – I could only make out the word ‘sanatorium’. Sometimes a high concrete wall had been built to hide the houses from the pavement traffic. I continued along Wodehouse Road, nipping into the Church of St John the Evangelist which is better known everywhere as the Afghan Church. Built by the British to commemorate the dead from the First Afghan War and disastrous 1842 retreat from Kabul this is a splendid building with stunning stained-glass panels and surrounded by extensive shady gardens. I was slowing up with the midday sun so pressed on. I had to stop, however, a little further along the road when I came across the big sign announcing the ‘Colaba Land Co-operative Housing Society Ltd. (Brady’s Flats)’. Here off a side street was a collection of uniform well-maintained flats that presumably were cooperatively owned and perhaps maintained (but maybe not now?). Calm, very green and elegant, there are, from what I could see, ten identical, three-storey flats. They would not have looked out of place in any capital city from around the world.

  Things were getting desperate now – the heat and humidity were getting to me, the noise and the traffic had returned and the pavements were busy. I persevered only to stop a little further on at the massive arched entrance to Cusrow Baug (‘Baug’ means gardens), a housing colony built in 1934 and reserved for members of the city’s dwindling Parsi community. I had passed this entrance in previous years, stopped to peer in but never had the courage to confront the watchman guarding the gate. This time, I wandered into the entrance to look at the noticeboard and the watchman was straight across. He gestured for me to approach half a dozen men sitting in the shade. They pulled up a chair and in very good English proceeded to give me a potted history of the emigre community of Iranian Zoroastrians in Bombay known as Parsi.

  Bombay has had a reputation as a tolerant, secular city encompassing many varied communities. Few match the influence of the Parsis. Many of the iconic buildings in the historic heart of Bombay were funded or designed by members of this community. Although small in number today – around 50,000 – their presence can still be felt and tasted through the cake shops and restaurants.

  I eventually managed to extricate myself from the history lesson and, as suggested by the wise old men, wandered around the sheltered housing complex, as we would probably describe Cusrow Baug today. In contrast to the streets and noise outside, it was all very orderly, controlled and calm. Around five hundred families reside here today. A large rectangular lawn bordered by trees and bougainvillea bushes was surrounded by four-storey blocks of communal apartments. At the far end was the most important and imposing building, the fire temple or agiary as it’s called. Built in 1836 when Colaba was still an island, the agiary is home to ‘sky burials’ – on which corpses are placed on open-air towers to be consumed by the city’s famous black vultures and other birds of prey. Inside the temple is the inner sanctum with its sacred fire which has burned continuously for 180-plus years. Huge bronze doors at the entrance to the temple are guarded by giant winged sculptures with human faces – all very impressive.

  Unfortunately the heat did for me. Tired and wet from the perspiration of the midday sun, I left Cusrow Baug after another short ch
at with the seated men at the entrance. I made my way across the Colaba Causeway, down Garden Road and back to my hotel. It had been a lovely morning with the delights and intricacies of the city slowly unveiling themselves. I was glad that I had decided to return to Colaba – a little more familiar but with much more to explore next time.

  Chapter 2

  India for the first time

  A working knowledge

  My geographical knowledge of India is what I would describe as ‘tourist geography’. In other words it has been driven by where we have been or plan to go on our next visit. And it is very basic with bits and bobs added in a piecemeal fashion over the years. It is getting better but is still very patchy and rudimentary. On the other hand the simplicity of this ‘working knowledge’ gives me some sense of an overview which allows me, to a limited extent at least, to contextualise events such as particular historical episodes, cultural patterns, tourist sites, voting results and transport routes.

  After all, India is a huge country or subcontinent with an enormous amount of physical variation. I like to think of it, however, as comprising a number of simple characteristics. Up north you have the wonderful Himalayan range of mountains which extend east to west and form a barrier or deterrent to other ‘interested parties’ from the rest of Asia that historically have shown some interest in India, came in and stayed for a few centuries. Given the number of television documentaries, books and films that focus on the Himalayas, many people must be as fascinated by these mountains as I am. I would love to spend more time exploring these most iconic of mountain ranges as we have only touched on their majesty in our visits to Shimla in the west, Nepal in the middle and the eastern ranges from Darjeeling. The cold and dampness in the early months of the year have deterred longer stays.

  Just below the Himalayas in the north-east, there is the Arakan range of mountains with its great Irrawaddy River, which are mostly in Burma but also encompass parts of India such as Assam, Nagaland and Manipur. These are steep, densely forested areas which again have provided cover for India from those in eastern Asia. At the other side of the country in the north-west there are the infamous Hindu Kush mountains. There are several passes through the Hindu Kush. They have provided the main routes historically and today from the rest of Asia into the plains of India just below the Himalayas. These routes have been the principal gateways into the country which over time have politically and culturally shaped modern India. Nestled into these mountains lies the beautiful but contested Kashmir Valley at just under 2,000 metres high with its tourist ‘honeypots’ of Leh, Alchi and the stunning Leh to Manali road. “India’s earthly paradise,” as Jawaharlal Nehru passionately and stubbornly put it.

  Immediately below these northern mountainous barriers to the country lies the vast fertile plains of the Ganges River. The Indo-Gangetic Plains as they are known run east to west from the Arabian Sea in the west to the Bay of Bengal in the east, some 3,200 kilometres long and 320 kilometres wide. Extreme temperatures characterise the Plains, very cold in winter and burning hot in summer. We are not as familiar with these great Plains as we would like to be having spent most of our visits and time in the warmer southern half of the country. We have though viewed the rolling, agriculturally rich plains with their abundant rivers from train windows. Three of India’s greatest rivers arise in the Himalayas and dominate northern India – the Indus, the Brahmaputra, and of course the Ganges, arguably the most famous river in the world and certainly the most sacred in India. Varanasi (traditionally known as Benares), one of the oldest inhabited cities in the world and a magnet for all tourists, is situated on the banks of the Ganges roughly halfway across the Plains. The mouth of the Ganges or Ganga as it is known in India is the largest delta – the Sundarban Delta – in the world. Famous cities periodically break up the Plains – Delhi in the north-west, Lucknow further east, and then, Varanasi and Allahabad.

  So that’s the north of India in my working knowledge of the country. South of the great plains is the triangle-shaped rest of the country – although I have seen it described as diamond shaped. The Vindhya Range of mountains although not technically a single mountain range is generally seen as separating north from south India. Stretching across the country two-thirds of the way up the country the Vindhya and also the parallel Satpura Range of mountains form a collection of disconnected hills, highlands and escarpments and rise to an elevation of around 300 metres. Below these mountainous ranges is the great plateau – the Deccan – which stretches for almost the complete length of ‘the triangle’, or peninsula, and averages 600 metres in height. A thin green coastal area surrounds the triangle before the sometimes steep rise, on to the Deccan Plateau. Bounding the Deccan Plateau from north to south are the mountainous Eastern and Western Ghats – well known to tourists in their train journeys up and down the coastal routes and almost meeting at the southern tip of India. This is the south of India, culturally, historically and politically distinct from the rest of India. The invaders of India – usually from the north – generally didn’t make it past the Satpura and Vindhya Ranges resulting in a small number of India’s greatest long-lasting dynasties being located in the south. The Western Ghats protecting the Deccan Plateau block the rain and moisture from the south-west monsoon from reaching the Plateau. Consequently central and southern India is semi-arid with distinct wet and dry seasons.

  The east coast of India is washed by the waters from the Bay of Bengal while the Arabian Sea hugs the country’s western coast. Huge great mountain ranges, extensive forested areas, five thousand miles of coast and a great plateau – the geography of India in a sentence. I haven’t mentioned the deserts – such as the Thar Desert in western North India – primarily because we have not been there but yes, deserts are a part of India.

  One or two other geographical characteristics remain part of my ‘knowledge’, largely because they were part of our travels. I remember for example the Coromandel Coast from my visit to Tamil Nadu. The Coromandel Coast which forms part of the Eastern Coastal Plain stretches down from Andhra Pradesh through to Tamil Nadu – the bottom half of the eastern seaboard, in other words. I have swum in its choppy waters many times. The locals warned me of strong dangerous currents but I was lucky. On the other side of the country is the Western Coastal Plain, that strip of land between the Western Ghats and the Arabian Sea. Very narrow – its widest point is only around 100km wide – the Western Coastal Plain is split into the Konkan Coast in the north and the Malabar Coast running down the bottom half of the western coastal area. Again I have swum at many points along this western coast and travelled up and down much of the coast on various trains and buses at different times. The most memorable journeys were always those that left the humid coast and headed up to the cooler Western Ghats – very scary journeys.

  If we move from geographical considerations to cultural matters on this ‘working knowledge’, a couple of other issues need mentioning. First, India today has 22 official languages. Officially Hindi is the national language of India but its use is mainly confined to the north of the country. A Hindi speaker visiting the south of the country will probably only be able to communicate in English. In the south it is the Dravidian languages – Tamil, Telugu, Kannada and Malayalam – that are common and which are distinct to Hindi which traces its origins to the ancient script of Sanskrit. The arrival in India of the Muslims in the 12th century resulted in Persian-influenced Urdu joining the list of modern Indian languages. The multiplicity of languages reflects strongly of course the diversity of cultures in the subcontinent. Apart from sharing the same geographical space, people from the north of the country had historically and culturally little in common with those from the south – language, diet, clothing, religion, customs and histories were all different. Far from an unchanging Indian culture and tradition as usually portrayed in histories or tales of the British Raj, the opposite was true – imperial ‘modernity’ did not save an ‘unchanging’ people and their continent.

  The other
issue worth mentioning at this stage is a remarkable one that many people know and which has greatly shaped the development of the country, namely religion. As is widely known, India is the home of at least seven of the world’s great religions – Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam, Jainism, Sikhism, Zoroastrianism and Christianity. Some 80% of Indians see themselves as Hindus, followed by Islam who total 92 million believers (or 11% of the population). Jainism, Buddhism and Sikhism are all offshoots of Hinduism.

  That about concludes my working but hopefully expanding ‘tourist knowledge’ of India. It allows me to get around the country, make some sense of the Indian newspapers and appreciate some of the current tensions and developments in the country. As mentioned in the previous chapter, this will always be very partial. But however the partiality, this is no barrier to exploring and enjoying the incredible beauty, richness and complexity of the country.