Today I visited a part
of town which has been my backyard, my sanctum for the summer holidays, Grant
Road. I spent most of my summer vacations at my aunt’s house, learning the art
of crochet, knitting, tatting, embroidery and all those skills which my fingers
have long forgotten. She lived bang opposite Minerva theatre. She had a huge
balcony on which she had kept a small cot to laze around. I loved that place.
It ran through the entire length of the building (something that seems
unachievable in today’s property market). Anyways, the focus here is not on the
idyllic location or the perfect house or the warmth I felt during the time I
spent there. The focus here is on the icon Minerva theatre that loomed large in
front of us. I remember watching “Sholay” in there. I remember the Dolby effect
of the sound made by the coin when Amitabh flipped it at the end. I remember
the magnitude of the place and the waiting room. Days would pass by when I
would sit on that balcony, doing my needlework and staring out at the posters.
Yes, those painted variety… not the printed ones of today. The larger than life
stance of the heroes; the plump red lips of the heroines… all clearly etched in
my memory. There was actually a time when I counted those little squares on the
façade of the building. Yes, life was that stress free. Now a days, kids don’t
know what to do with their time? They have to be entertained. My cousins and I
simply had to guess the number of squares and the entire afternoon passed by!
But today, I was
shocked as I passed by! This iconic structure, this personal piece of my
history, was no more. It has been razed to the ground! Razed! Everything gone!
Nothing of any importance has come in its place. Its just a vacant lot… like my
heart. People tell me, it happened years ago. I guess I knew it at the back of
my head, but it never registered till I saw it. The worst part is, this is not
the only thing. A little later, I visited my birth place, Dhobi Talao – Dukkar
galli (Damn, I feel so proud while saying it). But that too has changed. Its
like as if, someone has pressed a reset button. Quaint 3 floor buildings have
given way to 10 floor concrete blocks. The lottery-wala, from whom I have
bought many a golden tickets in the hope that luck would change, has been
replaced by a fruit-wala! The bakery has become a patisserie! And the
chaat-eatery has been converted to a shop selling office-chairs!! Now why would
someone do that? How often do we say… lets go buy an office chair as compared
to … lets eat some dahi batata puri!! Where is that sweet uncle who used to
hand over free chocolates every time I passed by – first as a kid, myself and
then with my own kids? Where is the chemist who used to give udhaari? Where is
the stationery shop that has been my savior my entire school life?
WHERE???!?!?! WHERE HAS MY HERITAGE GONE??!!!!!
My question to you is…
what exactly are we handing over to our children? Malls? Multiplexes? Will they
ever have those memories that we had while growing up? Will they be able to
hangout at the farsan shop or the chaiwala and eat fresh bun maska from the
bakery? For my kids, disaster strikes when Subway moves to another location or
when Fassos refuses to deliver to our area. I feel for them. They will never
know, the simple joys of running down to the bakery in your pyjamas and hearing
the crackle of the fresh brun- pav. They will never know how many squares
Minerva had. Not the steely gaze of Amitabh for them, nor the toothy grin of
Gabbar as they laze and loll about in a sultry afternoon. No sireee! They will
probably track Gabbar’s hideout on Google Maps and send a robotic soldier to
blow up his arms!
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