HOME TRAVEL TRAVELOG |
'Oh this is just like home...'
... Bombay's Little Madras
V Gangadhar. Photographs by Jewella C Miranda.
Listen to this long-standing myth about Matunga, the mini-Madras
of Bombay. Eighteen-year old Venkatachalam Subramaniam Iyer from Irinjalakuda
in Kerala, armed with his SSC and shorthand and typewriting certificates,
arrived in Dadar station, seeking a future in the city.
He was
nervous but had been well briefed. A Tamil porter guided him to
Matunga. Iyer got himself a cot in Jayalakshmi Boarding and Lodging
and finished a breakfast of Kanjeevaram idlis and filter coffee.
After a refreshing bath, he prayed at the Asthika Samaj temple
and appeared at an interview where the man who conducted the proceedings
was Ramasubban Iyer from Tirunallai in Palakkad district.
Iyer
sailed through the interview, received his appointment letter
and learnt that Ramasubhan Iyer also lived in Matunga. Reaching
the guest house at night, Venkatachalam confided to the man who
occupied the adjoining cot, Parur Parameswaran, "Oh, this
is just like home. I feel I had never left Irinialakuda!"
That is Matunga for you.
My friend and former colleague, Tushar
Bhatt, always referred Matunga at 'Matungam' because South Indians
viewed it as Kanjeevaram, Mayavaram or Thiruvananthapuram. Scratch
a Matunga resident and 10 to one, he will be from either Kerala
or Tamil Nadu. Of course, this Bombay suburb has a large chunk
of Gujarati population but the South Indian impact is indelible.
I do not live in Matunga, but am a frequent visitor to the place.
Like all other places in the city, it is getting more and more
crowded. Observes 76-year old, Narayanaswamy Iyer, who came to
Matunga when he was 26, "The South Indian population is not rising.
That is because quite a few South Indians had sold their rooms
and flats and purchased bigger flats in the distant suburbs. Their
families had increased in size and could no longer be accommodated
in the small.
rooms here."
That may be so. But during my rounds of Matunga, I still find
the South Indians in the majority. Dhoti-clad
gentleman. Women wearing the traditional nine-yard saris
and decked in diamond earrings and nose rings. And bare-chested vadhyars
(priests), many of whom still sport kudumis (tufts).
Despite
the salwar-kameez invasion, many teenage girls continue to wear
the pavadai and dhavani (half sari) outfits. I pass many
shops from the interiors of which comes the melody of taped Carnatic
music or nadaswaram tunes. Yes, Matunga, is still very much a
mini Madras.
Matunga at 7 am. Women are busy doing kolam (rangoli) at the
little spaces in front of their flats. The melody of subrapadam
sung by the incomparable M S Subbulakshmi can be heard all over
the place. Men and women, though hard-pressed for time, still
continue to visit the dozens of temples in the area. The Ganapati
temple, the Saibaba temple, the Arthika Samaiam (for Guruvayoorapan), the Bhajana Samajam (for Subramaniam),
the Sankara Matham (for Shiva), are packed on
all days. When I visited Matunga, last, Ram Navami was approaching
and several temples had announced plans for special pujas and
music programmes. You cannot ignored god in Matunga. He is omnipresent.
The lingering smell in Matunga is of flowers. You see them everywhere.
Different kinds of jasmine, roses, mullai, thazhambu, kanakambaram
and other varieties. Whenever I pass the local post office,
I halt and take several deep breathes to inhale the fragrance
from the flower shops. They are manned by Tamilians who invite
you over with robust shouts. A feast for your olfactory nerves!
But wait, there is more than
enough for the gastric juices too. According to food critics, Matunga
has some of the finest vegetarian eating houses in the city. I
have eaten in most of these which are owned by the Shettys from
Udupi and Mangalore. For me, the genuine South Indian restaurants
are those which serve food made by Palakkadi cooks. Concerns, Mani
Bhavan and Amba Bhavan, I am told employ genuine Palakkadi cooks
who turn out a variety of traditional South Indian dishes like
adai, elai adai and adirasam. The coffee in the Matunga
restaurants is the best in Bombay.
On closer scrutiny, I learn that the best cooks in Matunga did
not work in restaurants, but are 'freelancing' and catering to
South Indian weddings. Opportunities are unlimited. Most Matunga residents prefer
the traditional 18-course traditional addhi and these cooks were
ready for the challenge.
The vegetable market in this suburb is
a South Indian gourmet's dream. Besides the usual seasonal vegetables,
also sold is every kind of stuff available in the South -- even banana flowers,
slices of the trunk of the banana tree, different types of root vegetables, the big size bananas
and so on. Small size raw mangoes which went into the making of
kaduku mangai pickles are available only during the first weeks
of April and fresh stocks are lapped by eager customers.
The South Indian condiment stores located between the Sai Baba
temple and the post office supply every kind of spices, sambar
and rasam powders, pappadams, dried sarsaparilla seeds, fried
lotus seeds and so on. Several shops advertise butter and ghee
from Coimbatore. "Was there anything special about that?" I ask.
"Try," I am told. "Your Aarey or Amul ghee and butter are nothing."
Want to try any intellectual pursuits? Walk into the Giri Trading
Agency which has existed for more than 50 years. The smell of
incense and sandalwood is overwhelming. The store stocks every kind
of religious book in South Indian languages and English as well
as audio cassettes of Carnatic music and bhajans by top ranking
singers. Giri is always crowded and a unique symbol of
South Indian culture.
Giri deals with South Indian culture in abstract. As for
practical forms of the art, join the Raja Rajeshwari dancing classes
at Matunga which had taught stalwarts like Vani and Meera Ganapathy.
There are dozens of Carnatic music and bharata natyam classes
conducted by professionals or seasoned amateurs. If you wanted
to organise performances, the Shanmukhananda Sabha (now being
rebuilt after a disastrous fire) and several other halls are
readily available.
The colleges and schools in the region offer outstanding service.
Ruia, Ruparel, Poddar, the South Indian Education Society ran
colleges which produced excellent results every year. As for schools,
who hadn't heard of Don Bosco and its famed president, the late
Father Aurelis Maschio who is as well known as Mother Teresa in these parts.
Walk along the streets of Matunga.... Outside the Bhajana Samajam,
there are crowds of South Indian cooks and priests ready to offer
their services. The newspaper and magazine stalls bulge with stocks
of Tamil and Malayalam dailies and colourful magazines like Kalii,
Kumudam or Kalaimagal. Permumal, a veteran magazine vendor
says, "People here are crazy about reading. Many families
buy two or three magazines per week. Or borrow more from circulating
libraries."
The amply-stocked sari shops are full of the latest patterns
from Kanjeevaram. "We have as much variety as the shops in
Madras," one of the shop owners told me.
The same sentiment
was expressed at P P Krishnan Kutty, leading jewellers in the suburb. "Our designs satisfy every one, local people, and traditional
South Indians as well as the young and the old," a salesman
told me.
A walk along Matunga is exhilarating for the mind and the body.
And for the stomach... after sampling ven pongal, wheat halva and filter
coffee. The head nods in appreciation to the tunes of D K Pattamal.
There is something special with the fragrance from the agarbattis.
Despite increasing urbanisation, Matunga had retained its old
world charm. Or the old Madras charm.
Photographs: Jewella C Miranda. Design: Dominic Xavier | ||
Slide Show
|