A nostalgic look back at what was Bombay, and now is an embarrassment called Mumbai . . . written by a master of the art.
_________________________________________________ Decline of a great city > > GERSON DA CUNHA > > IN the fifties, into the sixties, they all came back to Bombay, those who > went abroad to study and train. Many voyaged across the seas to live > here. They do not return any more, or come from other lands to stay. The > young ones used to come home for the good living to be had here, but also > for a commodity once as plentiful as the jobs: the hope. Where is either to > be found these days, even in respectable fragments, never mind the > abundance of yore? > > I remember my city 50 years ago for the daily washing of its streets with > chlorinated water. I remember my home in Mazgaon, one of the original > hills of Bombay. Each evening, you could hear the animals at feeding time > in Victoria Gardens Zoo, two miles away as the lion roars. Not any more. > You hear only the bellow and snarl of traffic. We had our own gardens, as > a matter of fact, with a great peepul, a raintree and an acacia among a > dozen fruit-bearing trees. It was a welcoming, hopeful city in a newly > free nation. > > Clean streets, lions at dinner audible miles away and rambling gardens in > fairly crowded localities make a point about the city. There was an > amplitude about it, even in the *wadis* of Girgaum and neighbourhoods of > Parel. They were busy and crowded certainly, but the people filled spaces > that were planned for them, designed for those numbers: in BDD chawls, > built by the venerable Bombay Development Department, and the ‘quarters’ > for mill, city and railway employees. Citizens lived and worked to an > orderly city plan, paying sensible prices for space, without land grab and > vote bank politics, as at present. > > Did we but know it then, these were all marks of a great city. The > economics of Bombay has a history and a strong hand in its distinctive make > up. Halfway through the 19th century, a new era had dawned for this huddle > of fishermen’s rocks around a wonderful harbour. The Suez Canal spelled > great days for Bombay as a port and allied businesses, as did the American > Civil War for Indian cotton, which of course needed the port to go out to > the world. After the Indian uprising of 1857 against Britain, the new > imperial power chose to make an imperial statement here, as its main public > buildings testify – the High Court, University, Secretariat, Municipality, > the Town Hall and later the Prince of Wales Museum, then the great railway > buildings rivalling King’s Cross and St. Pancras in London. > > By the turn of the last century, Bombay was a world city by the sea to > which international trade and commerce came; witness the Sassoon and > Kadourie families taking refuge from Baghdad among countless others who > came as merchants and professionals. > > *W*ealth of a certain kind attracts the arts – public statuary and > private collections of painting and sculpture – as well as the graces of > secondary businesses which catch the spirit of the times, as in the proud > department stores of Hornby Road and Mahatma Gandhi Road, Evans and Fraser, > Whiteways Laidlaw (now the Khadi and Village Industries Emporium filled > with crores worth of non saleable goods and unsalesworthy employees), the > Army and Navy Stores, even such frivolities as Fucile the hairdressers and > the merry Italian cafes and confectioneries – Cornaglia, Mongini, Comba, > Bertorellis and, a bit later, Bombellis. > > People with the option to live and move elsewhere seemed to prefer Bombay > just after the war. May be independence does something for a nation, like > spring for a woman’s skin and a young man’s fancy. The world was looking > hard at India – and at Bombay, its best known international address. It > was not at all a bad place to be. > > There was an adequacy of recreational space. Housing was good, and good > at various price levels, bungalows and apartment blocks. Water, sanitation > and electric power supply were uniformly good. Bombay’s buses and trams > got you about quickly and cheaply, often over considerable distances on an > island shaped like a hand extended in greeting. Streets, roads and traffic > were easily negotiable. There was Marine Drive. Then, as now, the main > transport lifelines were the two suburban railways, called at the time the > BB&CI and GIP Railways, both of whom had world-beating hockey teams, I > remember (the rest of the world not being great at the game) and when the > two met it was an epic city encounter. > > *I*t is when the basics of life are routinely delivered, as they once > were in Bombay, that a city’s mind discovers itself. Hunger must be > appeased daily before cuisine makes any sense. It happened here. The city > attracted and held high quality people. Such talent can choose to go where > it pleases. It chose Bombay substantially in the decade or so after > independence. Its economics, quality of life and openness had much to do > with the decisions. Mumbai no longer beckons that way. Even in colonial > times, the city’s governance was much more accountable to citizens than it > is now. > > The energy of a city is based as much on the toil of its workers as on its > intellectual muscle and authority. Certainly, Bombay was partly a product > of the surpluses generated by its workforce. But just now, I am concerned > with its other vital forces. A fellow worker of mine who ended up heading > India’s scientific establishment once said, ‘If we don’t have our > aristocracies, we can’t have great thinking.’ To continue in this vein of > controversial thought, Goethe has said somewhere, ‘A fig for your > majorities! Wisdom never dwelt but with the few.’ We must look at the > minorities of that Bombay. It is they who caused the city to live up to > the motto on its escutcheon, valid for a century and more, ‘*Urbs prima > in Indis*’ (First City of India). > > *I*n the late forties and all of the fifties, Bombay offered a roll call > of enduring eminence. Homi Bhabha, polymath father of our atomic energy > initiatives, and Vikram Sarabhai, early researcher into space and > satellites, were city men honoured in the world science of their times. > The Progressive Artists Group near Kala Ghoda, (an equestrian statue of > Edward VII on Rampart Row) brought modern art to India. It was inspired by > refugees in the city from Hitler’s Europe, Walter Langhammer, who became > Art Director of *The Times of India*, and Rudi von Leyden, who entered > commercial life in Volkart’s, then Voltas. The PAG men who mixed the first > colours of modern art in India included M.F. Husain and Ara, brilliant > painter of still life whose nudes suddenly caused jaws to sag in the brand > new Jehangir Art Gallery; Raza, later to make a notable mark in Paris where > he lived; though not a member of PAG, a painter was at work in Grindlays, a > nearby bank, Krishen Khanna. > > In the city’s realms of industry and finance were the youthful J.R.D. Tata > and Keshub Mahindra, to say nothing of G.D. Birla himself, the Wadias and > Dalmias (in a remarkable coup, Ramkrishna bought The Times of India, which > is like saying he picked up the British Empire while shopping one Friday). > Shakila Bano Bhopali sang regularly to rapidly growing audiences on > Lamington Road; Omkar Nath Thakur enraptured music lovers in *pandals * on > Azad Maidan; Uday Shankar was unveiling totally new dance forms. > > *B*ombay was the bastion in India of western classical music. Where else > were there enough Goans to play second violin and the violas in an > orchestra? This was the home of Mehli Mehta, father of Maestro Zubin and > leader of the Bombay Symphony Orchestra. It was conducted by the Belgian > Jules Craen who often featured his concert pianist wife, Olga. First > Egidio Verga, then Colaba’s very own George Lester brought the magic of the > cello to the city. Walter Kaufman was here before returning to his > native Vienna to help, then lead, the postwar development of the Vienna > Philharmonic Society. It was Mehli Mehta and Verga who composed and > executed the haunting time signal of All India Radio, a soaring violin > heard over a cello drone pretending to be a tanpura. > > Mulk Raj Anand worked with spitfire energy on new novels post-*Coolie, *essays > and criticism in literature and art. Nissim Ezekiel, back from cheerless > London in the mid- fifties, was finding his own and India’s voice in > English poetry. His contribution was already beginning to be significant, > as much in his generous support of fellow-writers as in his own prolific > work. > > As the PAG did for modern art, Ebrahim Alkazi brought modern European > theatre to India. Kuwaiti by parentage but Poona born and raised, Alkazi > was introduced to theatre by the remarkable Sultan Padamsee in his Theatre > Group, Bombay. Padamsee died at the age of 24. But by then he had > upturned the city’s life in theatre, poetry and painting. Alkazi snatched > up the fallen standard of new theatre that Padamsee had raised. In the > early sixties he went to New Delhi where, even if he did not actually found > it, he set the high traditions and style of the National School of Drama as > its Director. In Marathi theatre, P.L. Deshpande and Vijay Tendulkar were > surprising audiences with anything but conventional work, to wit > Deshpande’s one-man ‘*Batatyachi chaal*’ (Potato Chawl). > > Watson’s Hotel, Bombay is where the movies came in 1897, barely six months > after the brothers Lumiere had presented their epochmaking > *Cinematographie* in Paris. That’s how high Bombay ranked worldwide for > innovation and commercial value. It never left the vanguard of cinema. > Today, it is the world’s most active city in film production. > > *T*he fifties were the high point of the black-and-white masterpiece. > Much influenced by Italian neo-realism, Raj Kapoor, Bimal Roy, Guru Dutt, > Mehboob Khan and Navketan (Dev Anand) reigned when the lights went down in > the nation’s theatres. They functioned out of Bombay. Pre-eminently, it > was the age, at least the coming of age, of Raj Kapoor. > > His name links immediately with the magical Nargis, his co-star in > *Barsaat *(1949) and *Awara *(1952)*. *With the first, he also > established his signature ensemble, composers Shankar and Jaikishen, > lyricists Shailendra and Hazrat Jaipuri and singers Lata Mangeshkar and > Mukesh. Like Barsaat, Awara was box office bonanza. B.D. Garga in his > authoritative work *So Many Cinemas*, says of Awara: ‘…an astonishing, > even ingenious mixture of melodrama, romance and a Ziegfield style dream > sequence (it) seduced audiences (everywhere). In postwar, post-partition > India, when the entire socio-political system was under strain and > thousands of migrants poured into the cities, identification with Raj > Kapoor’s dispossessed, rootless Raju was plausible and easy.’ > > *T*he kaleidoscope has many colours and shapes. But the details may fail > to depict an essential and larger phenomenon going on in the city, the > fusing of the city’s disparate elements into its cosmopolitanism. High > quality minds and spirits became greater because, like elements with > unsatisfied valencies in an environment of constant collision, they > combined to form valuable new compounds. > > ‘It was all a bit like a continuous party,’ says poet and writer Dom > Moraes, ‘Never planned. But it never stopped.’ He was speaking about what > went on in the home of his father, Frank Moraes, first Indian to be editor > of The Times of India, war correspondent and a personality of many vivid > hues. Dom remembers their flat in ‘Green Fields’ on the Oval at > Churchgate. It was a scene of perpetual comings and goings of everybody > from D.G. Tendulkar, the definitive Gandhi biographer, to Jawaharlal Nehru > and British civil servants, down to a fleeing nationalist wanted by the > police. This gentleman was tracked down one evening to the flat by a > British police inspector. The cop left after a drink with the assembled > revellers, among whom he had recognized his quarry. They shook hands. No > arrest was made. Nobody cared to disentangle the linkages and forces > responsible. > > *S*uch networks were numerous. Camellia Punjabi, lately of the Taj > hotels, tells of friendships with Jayant Narlikar and Vikram Sarabhai. ‘I > asked Narlikar, much to my embarrassment when I thought about it later… I > mean, there I was with this world famous cosmologist and I said, "Tell me > do you believe in astrology?"’ She recalls a conversation with Sarabhai as > long as half a century ago. He said to her, ‘One day, Camellia, we’ll put > satellites into space that will fill India with milk.’ She is still > mystified by the reference to Operation Flood. But he was right about the > satellites. > > Strangely, I became aware of religion, caste and community only as > independence approached. It was impossible to ignore the demand for > Pakistan and its rationale. In school, we knew each other by surnames and > a surname, whether Crawford, Habib, Udwadia, Jain or Chatterjee was just > that, a way of yelling out to someone across a playing field. The rest of > the town was much the same, a melting pot of communities. I now know there > was a consciousness of community. But the differences did not mean the > separateness and threat that some elements pose to others today. > > I graduated from St. Xavier’s College. In my day, it was powered by some > remarkable Jesuits and some no less distinguished non-clerics. The day > after the first atomic bomb exploded over Hiroshima, Fr. R. Rafael, head of > the Physics department, told us in a hastily convened lecture how the split > atom delivers its colossal energies. This was not an unknown subject even > then. But he went on to suggest how it might all have been put together, a > much less trafficked aspect of the bang. It was rumoured that he knew in > his pre-Jesuit days one of the men who worked on the Manhattan project in > New Mexico. > > Fr. F. Vion was a world class mathematician. Fr. H. Santapau was a > botanist, good enough, despite being a foreigner and a priest, to be named > the first head of the Botanical Survey of India. There was Fr. J. Duhr, a > hard to situate individual who ranged in his lectures from Aristophanes > and exploits of Hammurabi to the Napoleonic wars. He had a section all to > himself in the college magazine entitled ‘Duhr among the books.’ Fr. H. > Heras, of the Indian Historical Research Institute that he established in > the college, is credited with having cracked the written code of Mohenjo > Daro. Professors Kothari, C.D. Pinto, Theophilus Aguiar and Mhatre made > waves that were not just citywide but went well beyond. The hot focus of > effort was of course the students of these men in the century-old place at > Dhobi Talao. > > *W*hile this was true of St. Xavier’s, other institutions were no > laggards, Elphinstone and Grant Medical, the JJ School of Art and > Architecture and the University Department of Chemical Technology. All > this is meant to suggest the academic clime of the period. It was > stimulating and nurturing, with a figure like Vithal Chandavarkar presiding > over the affairs of the university as Vice Chancellor. > > A great city’s academics must obviously be doing the right thing at two > levels, as faculty and as graduating students. They were pretty much all > that they should have been in the fifties and early sixties. This did not > fail to have an impact on the city’s intellectual and professional life. I > bring this up because of the depths to which this facet of city life has > plummeted, where leaked question papers, marks scams, postponed > examinations and results, admission irregularities amid centralized tests, > worthless political appointments to headship of departments and > ideologically tainted textbooks pass unnoticed as routine. > > Today, Mumbai University is a degree factory, a necessary marshalling > point for departures to foreign universities. Worst of all, the portents > suggest yet tighter centralisation, greater financial lacks and further > deterioration in academic standards. > > *T*his is a world away from all that characterized a city of great talent > and thrust, with many globally competitive advantages, as we might put it > today. What went wrong? > > In three little words, the city’s politics. > > They have turned a good thing into something that yields bad outcomes. > Democracy is being used for competitive populism and to protect the corrupt > and the malefactor. A lecture I watched on late-night TV recently coined > the term ‘democratic excess’ for me. A professor of political science in > Toronto said this refers to perfectly legal acts passed by a legislature, > or government regulations, that in fact are not in the general public > interest but mainly serve narrow political, sectarian or the legislators’ > own ends. > > The fragmentation of our polity yields such fragile majorities on the > floor of any House that democratic excess is rampant and no difficult > decisions get taken. Yet all the decisions needed to address our problems > are difficult ones. Impasse. This is true and the current fate of today’s > Mumbai. > > A very large proportion of public life has been made to serve sectarian > ends, to the point where a world city is today a provincial backwater, > rapidly dwindling in any stature at all, except possibly in cricket. Even > there, the Ranji Trophy, which had taken up more or less permanent > residence in the showcases of the Cricket Club of India, travels to other > states with worrisome frequency. > > *T*he other difference from the past is Mumbai’s lawlessness. This does > mean the cops and robbers aspect, guns and gangs. But perhaps more > importantly, we speak of a privileged political class whom nothing can > touch, flouting of municipal and police regulations with impunity, > disregard even of High Court orders when it affects political lobbies, > arbitrary transfers of officers and officials. We have laws whose only > articles are defined by corruption. There is a breakdown of governance. > The city could not fail to pay the price. > > Tragically, Mumbai’s politics and its economics are on a collision > course. In the last four years, the growth rate of Mumbai’s GDP has fallen > well below India’s and even Maharashtra’s. Meanwhile, political leaders > talk merely of slum ‘regularisation’, and ‘Mee Mumbaikar’! That’s their > response to the troubles of India’s Locomotive City, its Money Metropolis. > > Per capita income in the city has dropped dramatically. Population has > ballooned but jobs have simply not kept pace. Against a national average of > 40% employment in the informal sector, something like 70% of the employed > in the city are hawkers, casual labourers or workers in anything but > regulated employment. Socioeconomic experts note the obvious: the city’s > social fabric is under increasing tension with so many on the fringe of > joblessness. > > At the same time, businesses and head offices are leaving Mumbai for Dubai > and Singapore, now even Hyderabad and Bangalore. Already, of Rs 40,000 > crore that Mumbai contributes to state and central revenues, only some 16% > comes back. > > A city is the sum of its economic opportunities and quality of life. > Mumbai finds less and less favour internationally. In a quality of life > rating by *Forbes*, we are ranked as low as 163 out of 218 cities > worldwide. In another survey, on what is called the Hardship Index, we > were near the bottom, 124th out of 130 cities. > > And why indeed not? The city’s infrastructure is strained. Water supply > and sanitation are in bad shape. Where this was once the country’s best > served city for transport, jammed suburban trains and overcrowded buses > deliver exhausted people to their jobs in the morning. Yet the increase in > cars far outstrips any increase in road kilometres. Traffic congests, > there are problems of mobility and some of the lowest average speeds of > vehicles on the street in Asian and world class cities. The impact on the > air that the city breathes can be imagined. > > Housing? Mumbai is one of the most expensive cities in the world for > business and residential space, but you get a poor deal in quality of > housing. Nearly three-quarters of our households live in a single room. > Over half the population lives in slums, more than in any Asian or world > class city. > > *W*e have destroyed India’s cutting-edge city of the fifties. We have > slowly got used to a city that works less and less well. But today’s > national economies depend on how well their cities work. If Mumbai and > India are to get anywhere, Mumbai must get globally competitive, and we are > nowhere there. > > The situation is of course by no means hopeless. Hope lies in the city’s > financial and commercial importance. The Reserve Bank and State Bank > headquarters are here, as are those of virtually every major commercial > bank. The main stock and commodity exchanges are here. There are more head > offices of the country’s top 100 corporations located here than in any > other city. All of this is beginning to generate the jobs that the city’s > people need so desperately. The pace must double. The entertainment > industries including cinema (Bollywood!), of which Mumbai is the informal > capital, show no signs of decelerating growth, despite piracy and > short-sighted tax policies. The information and software industries are as > full of promise and challenge as ever they were, needing perhaps midcourse > corrections in some sectors which they are well able to handle. > > *I*t is these ‘new’ industries that turn the spotlight on to the city’s > most precious and promising resource, its young people. Their energy and > talent are if anything more surprising than ever before. The competition > is greater. You’ve simply got to be better. But all of this demands > discussion at another time and place. I could not bring the present piece > to a better pause than with words from that quintessentially Bombay voice, > Behram Contractor, the unforgettable ‘Busy Bee’, first of *The Evening > News of India*, then *Mid-day* and finally of *Afternoon Courier and > Despatch*, all city eveningers. > > ‘I have lived in Mumbai all my life, and in Bombay before that. I have > made many permanent friends. Most of the time I am not aware of their > communal identities, as most of the time I am not aware whether I am eating > a vegetarian or a non-vegetarian meal. It is like travelling in a crowded > railway compartment in the morning, we are all passengers, and we are all > going to Churchgate.’ > > > > -- *Carpe Diem, Vita Brevis* *Stanley Pinto* *153 The Embassy* *15 Ali Asker Road* *Bangalore 560 052, India* *Mobile: +91 98453 95319*
