[Reader-list] Acts of Leisure

[Zainab Bawa]

Dear All,
This is my contribution to the ongoing debate on Acts of Leisure. It is a 
diary piece of my walks around the city. Just a quick point: as loose spaces 
are being brought under control, both by corporates and the BMC though this 
is more of a nexus than a dual activity, it involves creating properties. 
Property by itself implies fencing, securing it against trespassing, etc. 
Mumbai City is becoming a conglomeration of various properties!
Also, the corporates in the city realize that attempts at creating and 
defining property in the city cannot take place without the aid of the BMC 
so the BMC becomes a partner is every effort. For e.g. the upcoming Mumbai 
Festival. Also check out the advertisement on the back page of the Mumbai 
edition of TOI - it lauds the TOPS Security Services! The holy trinity - 
media, corporates, governance = private security! And we citizens are no 
holier than thou!
Cheers,
Zainab

1 December 2004

The city is a unique creature. I could even call it a mechanism because it 
is operative. I can call it a structure because it has its hierarchies and 
it knows how to intimidate people. But today, as I write my experiences of 
moving around the city, I imagine and relate to the city as a woman, a woman 
who reveals herself by and by. She has her charms, her beauties as also her 
ugly faces and darker sides. But she is a woman ultimately and in all that I 
understand her, the city is but a feminine metaphor.

She is an experience. And experiences are to be experienced, not consumed. I 
find that as we are engulfed by tight notions and practices of time to the 
extent that we have become consumptive, I believe the city has also become a 
process of constant consumption. Leisure, which perhaps in the classic 70’s 
and 80’s had a connotation of its own in terms of time and space, involved 
the city in its various facets. Traveling to downtown Mumbai, watching the 
seas at Nariman Point and Gateway, tasting the sea’s salts just as the salt 
of this beautiful lady we then knew as Bombay, were all experiences of 
relating to this city. We loved her, didn’t we? But today, we just use her. 
We pass through her without noticing her myriad nuances. She is an 
experience of constant commuting – between home and work and back! On 
weekends these days, we just sleep, and thus, sleep off the city.

Trains are a drug of Mumbai’s masses, particularly in today’s times. I say 
so because transitions and transformations in the urban are so rapid these 
days that you wouldn’t even notice them when they come through. And they are 
surreptitious as well. It’s crazy. I hate to leave the field even for a 
single day for I know not what new will come up and I may just miss it by. 
And when you travel by the trains, you are constantly inside the tunnels 
where worldviews operate differently. You know not what is happening on the 
roads, the streets, where the life of the city is. You are always inside the 
tunnel. And therefore, trains are the opium of Mumbai’s masses. So is 
regularity and discipline!

Once in every while, I prefer to take long bus rides because that is what 
actually helps me connect with the city. I do not want to be pushed 
underground, because that is the constant endeavor of city planners and 
developers. The new Churchgate revival plan speaks of building more subways 
so that the Mumbai masses (read workforce) which constitute half of the 
population of Australia at Churchgate Railway Station everyday, do not come 
out of the railway station and move to their businesses from within. 
Everybody is being pushed underground – the streets are being cleared! And 
perhaps, as the streets are being cleared, the railway stations are becoming 
new sites of crime, security, surveillance, and the site of all that’s murky 
of and in the city!

PUBLIC – this is one word which is very popular in the Mumbai parlance. What 
is Mumbai or Bombay but for public? This is a Public-City! Therefore I 
theorize that every space in Bombay is a public space – absolutely and why 
not? Go here, go there, go anywhere, for God’s sake you shall find public, 
public and more public. This morning, as I travel from VT through the old 
streets of Gamdevi, Chira Bazaar, Girgaum, Prarthna Samaj, I find the 
windows of the old buildings and houses are shut. Except for that one lady 
who was staring into the street from her window, the era of the window as a 
view to the street and to the city is bygone. There is no time man! What you 
talking!

Somehow, the very sights of these old buildings, raddi shops, side shops, 
old pharmacies and doctor’s clinics, etc. made me feel very happy. It is the 
pure experience of diversity, of difference and different. For once, I see 
something more than the glass and steel structures, the multiplexes and the 
malls. For once it is about people and not structures. For once it is about 
the humanity of this city, which is not sacrosanct or sacred, but an 
experience of colour, vibrancy, life and continuous procreation, generation 
and evolution. For once, it is not about consumptive time; it is about the 
pleasure, the flavours and the multiple tastes of a single yet diverse 
experience – that is my city and that is what I identify with!

As I pass through these old and forlorn areas of Bombay City, the downtown, 
the gallis and the gucchis, I find the city talks to me, reveals itself to 
me. Maybe it is not yet dead as I have been cynical about it. It is 
breathing, slowly, but surely. And I can hear the faint breath. I cannot 
promise to save her, but I promise to save my own soul from corruption, from 
cynicism, from depravation – and maybe if I save my own soul, I may be able 
to save a part of this city’s soul. And this bus ride, this time that I 
spend with the city, is my rebuilding of lost relationships with this city. 
I believe now that if we can undergo a paradigm shift concerning our notions 
and practices of time, of space and of money and economy, we may all be able 
to save our souls. We may be able to live!

This morning, as I stood in the area of VT, I recognized that this is an 
area laced with uniqueness, with wonder of wonders. It is an amazing area, 
not merely because of the Indo-Saracenic architecture which is known, lauded 
and applauded and then put under various heritage laws to make them 
inaccessible to the publics; it is wonderful because it is a moving area, an 
area where life is constantly being generated. If the publics of this area 
were to be pushed inside the dark and hot subways and the streets were to be 
made clear, would this area be what it is today? I have very serious doubts!

VT is a spectacular area. It has the bureaucratic BMC on one side. It has 
the capitalist Times of India Building on another side, Times of India, 
which is attempting and very successfully at that, to define what Mumbai is. 
It has the railway station. It has the courts and the other breed of the 
other men in black i.e. the liars whoops, lawyers! It has people whose homes 
are the streets i.e. the pavement dwellers. It has people whose businesses 
are the streets i.e. the hawkers. It has people whose transitions depend on 
these streets and who in turn define the transitory nature of the various 
street spaces i.e. the commuters. And it has faltoos too, the vagabonds, the 
voyeurs, the unemployed, the cheap jacks frequenting the shamed Capitol 
Cinema, etc. And the faltoos, mind you, are no faltoos. They generate the 
city. And we have another breed of faltoos i.e. the private security guards 
and men. I think they do major faltoogiri. And once in a while, they catch 
hold of some miscreant which puts them in the newspapers of the Times of 
India (please do the ‘Father, Son and the Holy Spirit’ with your hands on 
your chests). Aisa bhi hota hai! Kuch samjhe janaab!

It is about 3 PM this afternoon. I am moving across the streets of VT 
Station, Bazaar Gate, and Fort. At times, I am an observer. At times, I am a 
researcher. And at times, I am a participant. But there are no clear-cut 
boundaries in all these times and personalities – that is the wonder and 
marvel of schizophrenia. I say hi to some of my new friends around VT. The 
illegal global market is alive and kicking. At some points, it is dead. At 
some points, there is dhanda happening. All of this simultaneously. Can you 
then define the very practices and boundaries of time in this yet insane and 
schizophrenic city? Kabhi nahi! (I hope this city never becomes sane, the 
way Anand Mahindra and Co are visualizing it to be – curse them!)

After a while, I stand by the bus stop and watch the proceedings of the 
market. Since the last three days, they are also selling religion in this 
market. But I think this is a little legal mamla (affair). It is the Hare 
Krishna people. They have put up a little cloth stall, hired sound equipment 
and what not and they are into the business of it all. Earlier, they were a 
bit civil, but I guess they have learnt the tactics of visibility and 
survival in this market. Now, I find they have also lowered the prices of 
the Bhagwad Gita from Rs.120 to Rs.60 and are shouting in the very style and 
parlance of the street hawkers – ‘sixty! sixty! sixty!’ Everything sells 
here, in this illegal global market!

I watch a T-Shirt seller’s stall and the activities there. People are 
walking on the streets and while they are walking, they pass through the 
stall and decide to halt there and have a look. The illegal global market is 
a street experience. There are no terms of entry or exit for the buyers. It 
is all about participation in the activities. You can buy or you can leave. 
You shall not be pried upon or judged. You are the boss even though this 
market is not customized and made ‘individual’ as the (holy) malls. One of 
the buyers at this T-Shirt stall is finicky and picky. He is fat, has worn 
thick glasses, is looking through the various angles and sides of his 
glasses and examining every T-Shirt he is picking up. The T-Shirts are 
priced at ‘khali thirty’ i.e. only thirty rupees. And these are strange 
T-Shirts. Bad quality, perhaps will last a couple of washes. They are 
T-Shirts which are perhaps factory rejects. There is a Readers’ Digest 
T-Shirt, an EsselWorld T-Shirt (which in EsselWorld would cost a hundred and 
fifty bucks!), some American car company T-Shirts, etc. From all over the 
world on this T-Shirt seller’s wooden table – my goodness, it’s like going 
around the world in eight minutes and eight pence! I am almost beginning to 
imagine an American junkie’s life at this rate. However, we return to our 
Mr. T-Shirt seller. He is selling and there is the fat buyer. He is very 
fastidious and watching him arouses irritations and anxieties in me. Is he 
doing faltoogiri? Khareedne mein bhi interest hai ki nahi isko? Is he really 
interested in buying? I am doubtful. Then another macho kind of guy walks 
along the street and halts at the T-Shirt seller’s. He picks up one, throws 
and picks another. He is quick in his movements. He acts as a snooty 
customer. He has muscles, well-built chap, a chap you would call faltoo. 
This is a city of faltoos. This chap does not buy a single T-Shirt and walks 
off. But the T-Shirt seller don’t care for him. Aise bhi log hote hai! A 
Sardar, anther tourist into this city, comes and examines a couple of 
T-Shirts, buys one and walks off, someone I would call a fatafat customer! 
Our fat man, who I first described, is still examining the T-Shirts. I don’t 
think he is going to buy anything. He is just spending time. But, 
eventually, I see him pick five T-Shirts, pay and walk. My dad, who is a 
businessman himself, tells me, ‘Beta, you cannot judge a customer. Someone 
who looks very unlikely might just be the buyer whereas someone who looks 
likely may just not buy!’ And I think about the very practices of time and 
shopping … interesting nah!

I walk around VT Station. The area is called Bhatia Baug, apparently because 
of the Bhatia public park which is around. Dunno know the history yet. The 
park, which is a public park, looks like a dangerous haven to step into. It 
has druggies, beggars and all kinds of strange people. I am afraid to enter 
and so I don’t. The park is fenced and you discover it in the midst of all 
the ruckus and mess if you take some time and walk around carefully. Then, 
there is another location which is a grand water facility provided out of 
charity. It has two security guards posted there. Anyone can come and have a 
glass of cold water for free. I have been frequenting this place since three 
days now. The rule, as is written, is that you should not waste water, water 
is meant only for drinking purposes, and that you should wash the glass 
after you have finished so that it is clean for the next person to use. 
People can also use the space to sit for a little while. I see some tourists 
sitting there with luggage and using the space as a waiting room. The other 
day, a very poor, old man was participating in the activity of drinking 
water. He was dressed shabbily and looked like a construction labourer. One 
of the private security watch guards suddenly roared at this man after he 
had finished drinking water, “You bastard, you are supposed to wash the 
glass after you have finished.” I don’t know how justified his shouting was. 
I guess the guard was more prompted to do this because here was a man over 
whom he could show his superiority. Maybe he couldn’t do the same to me if I 
hadn’t washed the glass after use. After all, I am well dressed and more 
likely to roar back at him.

I walked back from the Bazaar Gate side towards VT. As I walked, I noticed a 
security guard sitting at the filth laden place where the BMC garbage truck 
is usually parked. I have no idea what this private security guard is doing 
out here. I checked with a friend later in the evening if he knew about this 
matter. He tells me, “See, the BMC has privatized and contracted out 
security to these private agencies. The BMC no longer uses a lot of public 
security in the form of police and the police are such that they may do or 
not do their work. But the private chap is on contract and he has to 
perform. The BMC can pull him up if he don’t perform and terminate his 
contract. So this private security thing is part of the BMC’s privatization 
initiative and efforts.”

My Conclusions for the Day: These days, we have been engaging in a debate 
about acts of leisure. I think acts of leisure are both private, individual 
acts, as well as public and community acts. Mumbai is being sold and 
marketed as a tourist city though historically, whatever is touristy about 
this place is actually not just its marvelous Indo-Sarcenic structures, but 
also its spirit, its filth, its dirt, its slums, its people and the various 
ways in which the peoples operate in this city. Current corporate efforts 
are aimed at cleaning up this city and making various spaces and places 
attractive to the tourists. I think Bombay is being made to suffer this 
inferiority complex with Delhi and Bangalore.
Bombay can never be a tourist city in the way in which the corporates and 
the bureaucrats imagine it to be. It will be a drastic failure and I am 
waiting for this failure to take place. I don’t think you can expect Gregory 
David Roberts to write a ‘Shantaram’ or for that matter, an NRI like Suketu 
to write a ‘Maximum City’ if you are to clean and sweep this city of its 
public and spirit. We are making an ivory tower here and it is bound to 
crash and break into pieces. Perhaps everyone needs a major shock before 
they are to realize anything. Is that so?




Zainab Bawa
Mumbai
www.xanga.com/CityBytes

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