What follows at the end are a few million photos from an afternoon at Mumbai's Chor Bazar or Thieves market. You can see these and a few more on this album on the Finely Chopped Facebook page.
The plan was always to go to Chor Bazar after Noor Mohammadi. That's what my intrepid fellow explorer, Sudeshna, and I did the other day. Two sociologists by training, exploring a hidden facet of modern Mumbai. The world below the J J Flyover which connected Byculla to CST. She had been warned not to go to Chor Bazar alone. At the end of our expedition she wondered why.
Done with our Grand Trunk Road lunch at Noor Mohamaddi, we set off past the more genteel looking Shalimar restaurant. We crossed shops selling attar or Indian fragrances on our quest for Chor Bazar.
We joined the teeming millions, all headed in the same direction. Past more restaurants and then saw a classical yet modern looking mosque. We were about to head towards the mosque when I saw a man selling an interesting mix of channa (pulses), spices, chutney, liver and other condiments. I stopped to take photos. The vendor was more than willing to let me shoot. The customer, Mr Hassan, indulged me too and even offered me a bite. Thankfully I remembered my manners in time.
This little food stall set the tone for the afternoon. New discoveries. Photographs. Friendly people. People who would pose for photos. Indulge your banter and answer your questions. It was like being on a holiday.
Our entry to Chor Bazar, literally 'thief's market', was past a Mosque. Religion and sin in peaceful coexistence. Sudeshna, educated in the leftist liberal feminists corridors of Delhi's JNU, observed that women were allowed in the mosque. We soon found out that this was the 'Saifee Mosque'. One of the main, if not THE main, mosques of the Bohri Community. Women are allowed in their Mosques from what I gather.
Hope I am not treading on any toes here... do not claim to be well versed with the religious aspects involved. Apologies in advance if any feelings are hurt. Not the intent.
The area was crowded. Yet peaceful. Order maintained by a posse of men in olive green fatigues and maroon berets looking straight out of the Tintin stories based in the Middle East. On asking we found out that they were volunteers from the Bohri community performing duties as diverse as maintaining order to providing paramedic services. The crowds were due to the occasion of Muharram. Someone told me devotees had come from across the world to congregate at the Mosque for Muharram. Looking after them were little children handing out glasses of water. Lessons in humanity learnt at an early age.
We crossed the mosque into a lane of sweet sellers. Again encouraged and indulged as I took photographs. I took photographs of an ancient man in a white beard deftly wielding a ladle to fry sweet samosas. We were introduced to the venerable Sara, owner of a sweet shop, established in 1922. Turned out she was an ex councillor. Happy to be with her people even "if everything collapsed". I asked her to smile as she posed for photos. She said that she used to be scolded for laughing too much as a kid in school. I promised not to.
We then walked into the Chor bazar. Greeted by a shop which said New Calcutta Feta Shop. Our eye's lit up as immigrants do at the sight of any connection from the motherland. We went in and chatted with the shop keeper from Bardhaman in our native Bengali. Turns out that 'Feta' is not cheese here. It refers to the golden caps which Bohri men wear during festive occasions. We got our lessons on Bohri caps - which ones are for children, for ordinary folks, for priests and for special people.
Thus educated we finally walked into the 'chor bazar'. Into lanes packed with people. The winter cool a big relief. The packed lanes a bit of a strain if you are claustrophobic. But the sense of warmth, bonhomie and good cheer took care of that.
There were all sorts of second hand stuff on sale...old mixers, fridges, washing machines, toasters, watches, batteries, telephone receivers, spectacle cases, and fresh olive oil bottles (!)... a museum of people's lives and their cast-offs. But where were the old gramophone players, the grandfather clocks, the automobile parts and old movie posters and the other legends of The Chor Bazar?
Turned out that the shops of Chor Bazar are shut on Fridays. That's when the street side sellers take over. Though we did find one or two shops selling treasures from the past...some needing a coat of polish to recover their lost sheen. The odd brand name or LP cover a throw back to our own pasts.
It was a lazy afternoon. Walking by with a silly smile on the face. Making new discoveries. Camera clicking away. Conversations with strangers. Lessons learnt. Being made to feel welcome. Completely at peace. Unwound. Destressed. Lulled into thinking that this was a vacation.
Sometimes it's good to see your own city as a tourist. To open your eyes and fall into its spell.
|Shalimar Restaurant...the search begins|
|The scent of a princess|
|The Saifee Mosque|
|Food to go with holy thoughts|
|Channa with a twist|
|Liver for the channa|
|I discovered that there were textures in food beyond the Far east. Right in our own backyard|
|The kind Mr Hassan who allowed me to photograph his lunch and offered me a bite too|
|"Hey there are women in this mosque" said our JNU Sociologist alumni|
|People posed for photos without a fuss|
|Life before facebook|
|The Bohri Volunteers|
|The calendar shoot|
|Finally some food pics. Boondi|
|The shop was founded in 1922. I am sure he was there then|
|They will grow up to be sweet samosas|
|He complained that I only too chacha's (uncle's) photos|
|Ladoos. At home in a mosque. And in a Mandir.|
|The lovely Sara|
|Refreshments for tired feet|
|Hey...that's our home town|
|How can you shop without eating|
|To new beginnings|
|Environment friendly battery disposal?|
|He offered a free photo with each of his 'Dubai watches' as I clicked away|
|Few signs of Chor Bazar|
|You want 'good price?' Kiss my a@#|
|That 70s show|
|Er, I paid money and watched this film|
|A woman's best friend|
|They say it's winter at Mumbai|
|That was quite a stunt|
|Turn right for Chor Bazar|
|Attar or Indian perfumes...memoires of a nautch girl|
|Guess you can shop for everything here|
|The Lost World below J J Flyover|