90 - RAPE AND WHAT WOULD REDUCE SUCH HORRORS.

 It is become a distressingly common crime against the female species, since the perpetrators are oblivious of the age of the victims.   During my childhood, in the 70s, my parents always warned me to be safe physically and I would be indignant.  Foolish child that I was, I never realized that my safety could be compromised because of the putrid mind of the other forces, who could violate my physical boundaries.

As a teacher, I was horrified when six year old students of my class two, in the very prestigious school where I taught, used abusive hindi expletives against each other, during an argument.   These kids obviously were unaware of the meanings of the words that they were using, and were doing so because they had learnt them from listening to their parents or peers at home use them.

So, men of all ages and even a few women, use these hindi expletives without any hesitation.  The literal meaning of these words is that they will commit rape of the mother or sister of the opponent.

These words are used very often, too often and too easily.   When the mouth utters such filth, then the mind treats such actions as commonplace and it comes easily to terrorise the female species through actions.

In our zorastrian religion, the basic motto in the avesta is, "manashnee, gavashnee, kunashnee" which means  "good thoughts, good words, good deeds".    But it is a very sad fact that zorastrian boys and men indulge in uttering the abusive words as though it is a part of the punctuation of their daily conversations.

Once, I scolded a parsee youth who was our driver to Udvada, and he laughed it off as terms of endearment.   I was shocked at his justification, but he insisted that all these "maa, behen ki gaaliya, and other phrases like gan*** and    references to the male organ in various sexual connotations, were perfectly innocent.    I beg to disagree.  No girl or woman should allow the men to utter these words in their presence and remain indifferent.  It is NOT acceptable to be insulted in words.    Because this casual attitude has developed among men to use such phrases that insult women and are aimed at demeaning a female sexually,  that rapes have become rampant.

Even Gandhiji had instructed youth that, "hear no evil, see no evil, do no evil" and these are the famous three monkeys of Gandhiji's teachings.

Parents are the main triggers that influence a child's language, as children learn through experience.  So I request all men, fathers, brothers, sons, fathers-in-law, grandfathers, husbands,  STOP using abusive explicit phrases against the female species and the world can become a better place.

89- ONE HUNDRED AND ONE YEARS !

                               KHORSHED MANSION  CELEBRATES

                                ONE   HUNDRED    AND  ONE  YEARS 

 Khorshed mansion at Kohinoor Korner celebrates one hundred and one years on July 26th 2024.  

The story of this majestic structure began in July 1923.  Khorshed Irani, my grandmother, pioneered the establishment and started Kohinoor Restaurant on the ground floor at 241 Mahatma Gandhi Road, known as Sadar Bazar, in those days.

Top floors remain untenanted since the year 2000, as Lashkar water works has allowed the present ground floor tenant Ali jafari, to divert all pipelines into the restaurant, of which he is the present proprietor.

The present owners are the late Ardeshir  and late Moti Irani, who have willed this property to their daughter, Meherbanoo Irani.  She is having a legal battle with three ground floor tenants, two Billimorias and Ali Jafari, and one illegal encroacher, subtenant of Ali Jafari,  who is running a cigarette shop, to be evicted, so that repairs and renovation can restore Khorshed Mansion to its previous glory.

It is sad to note that Ali Jafari has encroached within the common area of wooden staircase leading up to the top floors.  He has blocked the spiral fire escape stairs and has no trade license nor a fire compliancy certificate.   Workers have no police registration and so as landlords, we are helpless against this apathy.

The other tenant, Hemali who runs Billi food corner, has no running water, nor a fire compliancy certificate, nor a trade license.  PCB has been requested to look into the irregularities, but they have no inclination to right things.

The present great grandson of Khorshed Irani, Roostam Irani, has hopes of reviving this ancestors' legacy and reverting it to our original ownership, as he is an experienced and qualified Hotel Management graduate.   Presently he is at the mercy of working for very little salary for other hoteliers, in spite of having this elegant property in our family ownership.  Tenants take over precious properties without any rent agreement nor registration and do not want to leave, nor are willing to contribute towards major repairs.  They hold the owners at ransom and quote the rent control act, to justify the measly rent they pay.   Such problems should be resolved urgently by courts to prevent loss of life due to dilapidated status of properties.  And also to give respite to owners for bonafide need.  Tenants are asking for crores of rupees to vacate, as this is how the govt rent control act allows them to hold the rightful owners to blackmail and extort money.

Khorshed Mansion needs to be saved as an iconic structure and an old Iranian legacy of zorastrian Irani refugees.  

88- MARATHI IS NOT MY MOTHER TONGUE, BUT ...

 Almost five decades have gone by since I was a student at the St Annes school in Pune.   I always got the first rank in all subjects, including Marathi which was a difficult subject for the non marathi speaking  students.

Every score in every subject was the hard work put in by my mother, who made sure that my two brothers and I would get all the guidance we needed from who ever was able to help us.

Most of the time, my late mother,  Morwareed or Moti as she was better known, would facilitate our study hours, make sure we had good nutrition,  and a good atmophere to learn.   She herself had managed only studying upto the eighth standard (which was the second last grade before cambridge school graduation, in her time).   My mother always wanted all her three children to enjoy whatever she had been denied due to financial constraints.   

My mother would revise every subject with each of us,  and for Marathi and Hindi, she would request our neighbour, the Pagadaloo family's eldest daughter, who was a teacher, to guide us.  The Pagadaloo family lived in our huge bungalow as tenants, and they were a flourishing family of, I think  nine children, and their matriach, Sivama.    I recall that their father had passed away when all the children were quite young, and the mother and older sibling, took over responsibility.   The father had taught my father driving in his ambassador taxi, and my late father always reminded us how well he had guided him.

I have forgotten the name of the oldest sibling who was the main person who helped us to compose marathi essay assignments,   but I shall never forget her kind and encouraging words.  She never refused to help us in any assignment, and was a very extraordinary guide, for the few times that we would go to her for marathi essays.

My late mother was a very compulsive personality and would pursue any task with all her resources and achieve the result she wanted.  So it was that she wanted us to be able to be fluent in Marathi speaking, not only to get good marks at school but she realized that as maharashtrians, we needed to know the local language well,  to survive and flourish in the state of our birth.

So, she would take all three of us and sometimes the pagadaloo kids, or the parsee neighbour's kids, or even the sindhi neighbour's kids, whoever was willing to come for watching a marathi play at the Bal Gandharva Rang Mandir at Deccan gymkhana.  And we would all travel by PMT bus.  Those were the sixties and seventies, when television was not yet easily available.

So, all of us would be standing in the long lines at Bal Gandharva theatre, one zorastrian lady, my mother, conspicuous in her parse style saree and three of her kids wearing outfits that were not the regular marathi audience wear, with shoes and socks and me, the girl, in a pretty embroidered frock.   So it was that we had to sit through the entire three to four hour marathi stage play, often not comprehending the language but yet listening and learning.  Mr Raj Thackeray would be pleasantly surprised if he ever has a chance to converse with me in marathi.

Our foursome was  a regular at the marathi cinema theatres which were in the city area, near mandai,  far from our camp home.  Pinjra shall always be the film that touched my soul, and I have watched it at least ten times, with tears in my eyes every time.  Because of the incessant efforts of my late mother, all three of her children, are fluent in marathi, which often leads to raised eyebrows from whomsoever we converse with, especially at government offices.

Now that I look back at the immense efforts my mother made to educate us,  I realize her contribution towards making me the person I am today.  I shall always recall with fondness the slim cane she used to whack us with, to make us learn our spellings.   Thank you my dearest mother,  you were the best mother in the whole world, and I miss you.

87 - PARSEES AND PARSEES AND ...

Being born into the zorastrian religion, I was always reminded since childhood, that we are a breed apart and that it is important to follow the basic tenets of 'manashni gavashni kunashni' which means 'good thoughts, good words, good deeds' in the avesta language.     And it is very important to wear our 'sadra' and kusti at all times,  to pray and remind us of our religion.

And I really believed that all zorastrians, parsees and iranis, also believed the same tenets.

But bubbles do burst and so did I realize that all beliefs are just for public perusal and not for practice in reality.

Parsees are not saintly, nor too charitable, nor kind hearted, any more than other communities.

In my life experiences, I have had kindness bestowed upon me by random  people and none of them happen to be parsees.  On the contrary, parsees have critizised me without complete information or details about my actions, nor about my status, medical or financial or emotional.     Parsees have been brutal and mean and emotionally drained me, instead of lending a helping hand.   Especially parsees who are my relatives through my marriage and parsees who have married my relatives.

I have lived in a parsee colony area for more than forty years, but there is not anyone who is my friend in the true sense of the word.   

A parsee will speak politely with you if they need you to share your servant, or to borrow something, or to keep your house key to give your servant when they are not in town.

A parsee will pry into your personal details just to be able to gossip about it to their circle of friends.  

A parsee will befriend you if they know that you can bestow their property on them after you are gone. 

A parsee who is a CEO of any charitable trust, or any trustee, will demean you, insult you, and ridicule your requests, but they will focus their attention on your assets, especially if you are alone and they can acquire your property to then use it to mint money in various ways from other needy parsees.

I wanted to be a part of the parsi theatre, but i was ridiculed by certain stalwarts of the industry, almost as if they were purposely hindering my dreams.

Parsi school principals have insulted my children for requesting to be as part of the organisers.  Parsees only respect another parsee who is rich or someone who they can donate foodgrains and diapers to, once a year.

Of course I must reiterate that there are a few who really reach out, but they are very very few and far apart, almost unreachable.

So when I need help, I do not go to any specific Parsee for succour, but to the good human who may belong to any other religion. 

86 - STAIRWAY TO THE STARS

Getting caught in a traffic jam everyday is the reality of life in Mumbai.  Trying to cope with the passivity of the situation, I have evolved a simple tactic.  One is to wear dark glasses and shut the eyes, and the second is to look at the same buildings daily and build up a connection among them.

Predominantly a Muslim area, there are at least five christian schools and four churches here, but it is the loudspeakers of the masjids that rule. Cigarette shops and liquor shops abound, with immunity, in spite of the proximity of at least five schools on this road.  The footpath is in a very sorry state too, and is used as a road for two wheelers.  It is almost safer to walk on the road.  This area is a shopping haven for children's outfits, with shops like Nabila, Baingans, Kiwis, Chickoos, Planet Kids etc.  All these shops encroach onto the footpath with their displays.  I wonder why the E ward authorities are blind to the menace.  Obviously a very hefty 'hafta' must be given by all.  The footpath is also blocked by the HP petrol pump which is now renovating a 'police chowky' next to its premise, which is also illegally blocking the pedestrian footpath,  but no one objects, and so it continues.  But when the footpath nears the Byculla Jail, then magically the entire length along the jail has a very clear footpath?  Across the road, the grand old American Express Bakery boasts 'we knead  your needs' but they blatantly block the broad footpath with large SUVs.  Who cares that school children too have to walk on the road?  No one.

As my bus inches along Nagpada,  it strikes me that it is an amalgamation of so many religious cultures.  Essentially a Muslim area, the corner has the JJ Parsee dharamshala at Bellasis road, which 'helps people of all castes and creeds with food, shelter and medicine'.  It is one hundred and fifty years old.   Hotel Sagar, owned by multimillionaire muslims is the star of the road.  Shops with names like Zamzam,  Tahoora,  Zahoora abound here.  Sweet whiffs of bakery products being baked invade the olfactory senses.   Then comes the St. Anthony's home and school for girls, run by the Franciscan Missionaries of Mary, which also has boarders who are taken care of for free.    As the bus eases along, I always try to catch a glimpse of the lovely grotto dedicated to Mother Mary, just inside the main gate.  Quite a few prostitutes stand along the footpath, as this is also a redlight area of Mumbai.  This area is known as Nagpada or Bellasis Road or Boman Behram Marg, until the local MLA changes it to his own name as the chowk name board has already been named after him.  the self proclaimed 'famous' citizen Mr. Waris Pathan.  It would be credible if he would make sure that the footpaths are blocked for two wheelers and are safe for pedestrians.

The bus stop has the legend 'Alexander talkies and Maharashtra college'.  What a contradiction!  A theatre that became the bane of all locals, as it was reduced to screening B grade blue films, a drastic fall from its previous status. Started in 1931, by Khan Bahadur Ardeshir Irani, who was known as the 'father of talkie films' in Asia.  He had produced and screened the first talkie called Alam Ara in 1931,  besides countless silent films before that, the first indigenous colour film called Kisan Kanhaiya in 1937.  So it is an important historical landmark, which has now been taken over by a muslim religious foundation called Deeniyaat.     The Anjuman Islam school for girls is across the road, but the footpath in this area is used as parking space and school children walk on the road, braving the traffic.  Further on is the intricate dome of the Mehndi Masjid, almost strangled by the newer buildings.

All along the path that the bus moves towards Mumbai central,  the Imperial twin towers in the distance are like the North star, as though guiding the path of my bus.  Clearly visible from the Nagpada area too, the towering sixty floors built by Hafeez Contractor and the Shapoorji Pallonji Group are a treat to view.  A major bus stop is at the Orchid Centre mall, with the BEST depot across the road, a very shabby face on either side, except for the towering DB enclave of forty four floors in the background.  I have visited the mall recently and it was a very painful experience, with the tiny cubbyhole mobile accessories'  shops, and lots of packing material garbage along the entire corridor, plastic wrappings, nylon strings, thermocole packing,  on all the inner floors, and a very strong stink of unclean toilets that  all the sellers and buyers seem to be oblivious about.  It is as though the public that enters there,  expects  the shoddy environment.

The bus usually stops at the traffic signal at the Mumbai central chowk, and on the left is the Samudra bar and restaurant, with a poster boasting about a 'live orchestra',  and a very vigilant bouncer at its closed door.  The next building is the Nathani Heights, which will be the tallest building in India, with seventy two floors, when it is complete.  Along the footpath, vendors sell shoes, which has always intrigued me.  How do they access the stylish leather shoes?  Just before the bus goes over the railway lines below the bridge, I observe the 'night school and night junior college'.  And then the nostrils are invaded by the fishy stink of the tiny stalls that are along the descending slope towards Vasantrao Naik Chowk,  The chowk has a lovely triangular garden in the centre of the seven road junction here.  The pretty sight is spoilt by the derelict Ganga Jamuna theatres in the background.  What a waste of prime space.  Bhatia Hospital is the next landmark, with haphazardly parked cars, making the broad road into a bottleneck. 

I look forward to catch a glimpse of the sprawling Parsee owned bungalow just before Nana Chowk.  The congested Nana chowk with six roads forming the cross roads,  is as unsafe to walk as ever, with the huge skywalk leading just to this point, and therefore quite pointless to access.  The Gamdevi police chowky, is the next eyesore, with police bikes, jeeps, vans, double parked, blocking the road, as though it is their birthright to do as they please, because they are the police.  The police vans even block the opposite side access to the footpath,  a sad reflection on the indiscipline of 'rule makers' becoming 'rule breakers'.

So then why have I chosen the title 'Stairway to the Stars'?    Because in spite of all the melee, my daily route lets me observe the intermingling of the sane, the blatant and the dream makers, with so many religious groups, so closely intertwined, living in peace almost, with so many skyscrapers that have so many residents with their heads among the stars.

85 - ALL THE BETTER TO SEE YOU WITH.

A very quiet area, where only a few parked cars are the visible statements that people are around somewhere.  The traffic on the road is prolific of course.  And then I enter the Bombay City Eye Institute, and step into a very busy setup.

Luckily I have visited during the 'economy' time, so I will pay a subsidized fee, for my check up.  Everybody looks calm and relaxed.  Patients of all age groups are sitting on the seating along the walls,  tiny cabins have neat eye checkup machines, doctors donning a white coat are attending to individual patients in each of the small cubicles, and helpers in blue uniform are calling out names of persons who have to follow them to a particular point,  for a particular checkup.

I register myself.  Looking for an unoccupied seat, I walk around and note the labels on the cubicles.  There are eight rooms , then four more in a long corridor and the corridor parallel is the operation area, where footwear has been removed before entering.  Optometry, sonography, retina and uvea, perimetry and YAG laser, cornea and contact lenses, lensex OT, lasik OT, etc are the labels I noted down while waiting for my turn to be checked up.  All along the walls and the narrow corridors, seating has been provided, on which there were almost fifty persons in the various benches and chairs provided.  As a patient was called to any of the checkup cubicles, any standing person would quickly sit on the unoccupied place.  This 'musical chairs' game amused me and I too had to participate in it.

As I waited on a chair near a cubicle, I could hear the doctor's interaction with the patient.  'How much time do you spend on the PC?'  seemed to be the first question for every patient that entered.  But if she would ask 'How much time do you spend on the mobile screen?'  it would elicit a more popular response.  Anyway, I involuntarily became privy to the conversation as I waited.  The person worked on the PC from ten a.m.  to seven p.m.   The advice was 'Blink more often, do not stare at the PC for more than an hour, focus onto something at a different distance for two minutes'.   Advice that I too am grateful for.

Mine was a routine checkup advised by my diabetologist.  As I was called into the different cubicles, to check the lens, my spectacles, eye pressure, vision, the cornea, the retina,  etc, the common instructions were 'please put your chin on the support and rest your forehead onto the band'.  The reading room where the lenses are checked onto each person's eyes for near and far sightedness, had a screen which showed the alphabet as inverted mirror images, which were reflected onto a facing mirror, to be read.  I was enlightened about this,  that this creates twice the distance between the patient and the image display,  as the tiny cubicles do not have the length needed for correct diagnosis.  So now I am a bit wiser for having asked the reason for the mirrors.

Between tests, I had to walk around to find the unoccupied chair in the musical chairs' game, and I noted the displays about 'blade and bladeless cataract surgery',  the Hermann Grid by Ludimar Hermann that displayed lateral inhibition in 1870,  and another display titled 'turning the tables' illusion by Roger Shepard that displayed 'spatial relations'.  I found that information very interesting.

One family with two girls, approximately seven and ten, were discussing how the school teacher would now have to give them the front bench, all the better to see the blackboard with, after the opthalmologist's  opinion and diagnosis.  One mother has brought a very small six month old baby for a checkup.  Another middle aged couple, where the husband was the patient, and had bandages on both his feet, intrigued my curiosity, and while playing the musical chairs game, we exchanged smiles and I ventured to ask how he had injured his feet.  Being a diabetic, the nerves in the legs had to be stimulated with a warm water soak daily, and by default, he soaked his feet into just boiled water, without realizing, until the damage was done. 

It is not easy to share intimate stories with strangers, and I am grateful to anyone who enlightens me about their personal experiences, so that I can be aware and better informed of such dangers.

As I am guided to the outgoing desk to collect my report, I spot two boards on the wall of the hospital.  One has a list of   'donors'  and the other, of   'advisories', and I recognised only the last name, that of Shiamak Davar.  The least likely person that I would have expected to find in the Bombay Eye Institute and Research Centre.  

84 - TO MARKET, TO MARKET, WITH A CLOTH BAG FOR SURE.

If you are buying vegetables from the market, you must carry your own bag.  It can be of paper, cloth or plastic.  But  you must have it on you,  unless you are a regular customer, and then the vendor will give you a carry bag that he will conjure up from the depths of the undercover 'galla'.

The quick thinking startup is that of stitching cloth bags and setting up shop at strategic places,  grocery stores, markets, etc.  Dorabjee strores in Pune sells cloth bags with their logo, for forty rupees each,  Reliance stores sell cloth bags with their logo for rupees forty and ninety each, Nature's Basket sells cloth bags with their logo for rupees ninety each.  So many shops have started this new product line, with something that has a timeless shelf life and excellent demand.

 Numerous establishments pack the products into paper bags with handles styled out of cords.  But these are viable only for light weight products, otherwise the customer has to carry the bag with both hands, one supporting the filled bag from below, otherwise the contents will soon be scattered through the paper and onto the ground.    Another invention is a 'bio green' bag, made of vegetable starch pellets and is completely bio degradable.  But that does not support large and heavy products that have to be carried from the sales' point to the home or place of re-distribution.  The large blue plastic bags are the most popular ones and are still used, and reused.  Crawford market is rife with 'plastic' bags.  Black garbage bags are also sold freely, whether they are bio degradable has to be taken at face value, on the word of the vendors.

The talcum powders, shampoos, conditioners, hand wash liquids, shaving creams,  are sold in plastic containers.  The refill packs of these are also sold in plastic bags.  Chocolate wrappers, snack wrappers, are all a type of plastic material.   Innumerable toys are manufactured with a type of plastic.  Innumerable footwear is made of plastic.  Raincoats, childrens' water bottles and snack boxes, are all made of plastic.  School books and school calendars are coated with plastic covers.  Everytime we write, we use a pen made of plastic.  Travel around the city and you will see blue plastic sheets used to cover roofs in so many places.  All electrical wires are coated in plastic,  it is a bad conductor of electricity, so it is quite indispensable.   Plastic is almost indispensable, and instead of banning its use, attention should be paid to recycle it effectively.

The worst culprits are the large cardboard chocolate gift boxes, mainly by Cadbury, which pack a variety of their products into moulded plastic containers and then pack these into a cardboard box.  The mobile phones which are packed with moulded plastic, to keep the product safe, are also environmental pollutants.   The thick, transparent, plastic strip curtains used to enclose shop entrances with AC installed.  Every toothbrush, most combs, goggles, are plastic.  Walk into any toy shop and you will see mostly plastic products.  The bucket and mug in my bathroom is plastic. The shower curtains and the pipes that connect the washing machine to the tap and the outlet, are plastic.    My Adhaar card, pan card, debit and credit card are all plastic coated.  Every photograph is on plastic paper, every roll binding is of plastic.

Plastic is a wonderful invention and it should be used and then recycled correctly.