Posts Tagged ‘local’

My Mohalla: Shoemaker, shoemaker

By Malaika Mathew Chawla, 13 and Subhashri Acharya, 10


We play, run around a lot and our shoes keep getting scuffed, coming apart at the seams. Especially now during the rains. We don’t throw them away when they tear. No, we take them to the cobbler near our apartment block. Dinkar Krishna Kamble is a cobbler who repairs shoes and slippers every day in a narrow bylane in Bandra. He is 45 years old and has been doing this for 20 years. He travels to Bandra from Sion-Dharavi. He works from 7am to 7pm. He gets 10 to 20 customers in a day and earns about Rs250 every day stitching and mending shoes. There were many bottles of shoe polish, gum, thread, all kinds of needles arranged around him. He gets all his material from Kurla.

“My father and grandfather were cobblers – they would sit whole days stitching shoe, polishing them. They would make an old shoe look as good as new. I used to love looking at them work. My grandfather taught me the skill. So I came to do the same work.” He has a wife and two sons – “one of them go to college.”

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My Mohalla, Jalebi Ink’s Neighbourhood Project, tracks the history and culture of neighbourhoods through the people who inhabit the spaces, their individual histories and cultural influences. If you’d like to write about your neighbourhood, e-mail us at jalebi.ink@gmail.com

My Mohalla: The neighbourhood candy store

Posted 25 Jun 2010 — by admin
Category My mohalla, neighborhoods, neighbourhoods

By Abhimanyu, 10 and Akul, 9

Opposite St Stanislaus’s rear gate is Cardoz Store, the shop where we buy a lot of candy from. It’s off Waroda Road in Bandra (west). Their homemade orange and lemonade is yummy! In the afternoon, they shut down for two hours and you can see their bright red sign saying ‘Coca Cola’ quite clearly.

This time, when we visited the store, we met Debra Carvalho behind the counter. She was looking after the shop. Cardoz Stores is a neighbourhood shop selling confectioneries, and daily grocery items like milk, bread, eggs, cheese etc. Debra said she is 42 years old and not married. The shop is run by her brother. She helps him look after it. “Since this is close to St Stanislaus School, we keep all items that children like having like all kinds of candy and sweets; and cold drinks. We also cater to parties with snacks like sandwiches, chicken rolls, hot dogs etc.” They also sell some Goan dishes like Chicken Xacuti and snacks like potato chops. What is available is handwritten on a blackboard the day before and people have to order 24 hours before delivery.

She said what she loved about her neighbourhood was that it was “very safe and there were no hassles, everybody is bindass. You can come as late as you want.”

When she was our age, she went to a nearby school St Joseph. Earlier this area was dominated by East Indians and the shops around here were owned by them. There were beautiful houses here – it was like the countryside. Now everything has been taken over by builders. Now you can only see big-big buildings.

Debra says she gets up every day at 5am as the water supply starts at that time. “It stops by 10am, so within that time we have to wash and bathe. Then I come to the shop. In the afternoon from 2 to 5, we take a siesta and then open the shop again. From five to seven, I take tuition classes for neighbourhood kids. By 9.30 we close the shop.”

Sunday is our day – we take a break. We go for an outing to the nearby seaside promenade at Bandstand or Carter Road. Or we go to Jogger’s Park. In the evening, we go for mass. That’s how our days go.”

Debra says she goes for holidays to Goa often where she has a house in Arpora Goa at Melha Rosa. While we were talking her niece and nephew came in. We all had some delicious homemade lemonade.

The idli seller

Posted 06 May 2010 — by admin
Category My mohalla

By Nikita Arivazhagan (11) and Subhashri Acharya (10)

Every morning at around eight, a man in a short lungi walks up to the pavement on the road in front of our apartment in Bandra (west), Mumbai. He unloads five steel containers which are precariously balanced on his head and serves up generous helpings of a most delicious morning breakfast. This is Raman. He has been selling his idlis and vadas with finger-licking coconut chutney in our neighbourhood from the same spot for the past eight years.

Raman with his mobile restaurant. He comes equipped with a bunch of paper (cut from magazines and newspapers) to serve his snacks on

You can have a plate of four steaming fluffy idlis and four crispy vadas for as little as Rs10.

Raman ladles a generous dollop of his trademark coconut chutney on to some idlis
The piping hot breakfast has many takers in the area

We have had this breakfast on many lazy Sunday mornings. We have also ordered the snacks in bulk for some of our birthday parties. Many people love his food  –  the office-goers in the area, people who work from the pavement like the nearby newspaper stall owner and others who are just passing by – they all have breakfast here.

Nikita (left) and Subhashri talk to Raman, their neighbourhood idli seller for Jalebi Ink’s My Mohalla Project

Raman lives in Dharavi and comes all the way to Bandra every morning. He wakes up at 4am to steam the idlis and fry the vadas and grind the ingredients for the coconut chutney. His chutney was the best we have had so far. He takes the local train to Bandra and arrives around 8am to serve up breakfast to early morning office-goers. By 11am, all the food is over. Raman is from Madurai, a city in the south Indian state of Tamil Nadu. He says he came to Mumbai to make a living selling idli-vada. “This wouldn’t have worked in Tamil Nadu – everyone in that part of the world is making idlis! So I thought of Mumbai.”

My Mohalla: Counting crosses in Bandra

Posted 06 May 2010 — by admin
Category My mohalla, neighbourhoods

By Aiden Lillywhite, Akul and Sheldon

Akul, Aiden and Sheldon

The narrow street on which we spotted many crosses

In Bandra where we stay, there’s a small area with many old houses with tiled roofs. This is Runwar Village.  Some of these houses are more than a century old. That is why this area has been declared a ‘heritage precinct’.

One thing that strikes anyone who comes here is the large number of crosses.

We counted – on just two very small lanes, there were 23 crosses.

Some right next to each other. Some were on the road.  Some in people’s verandahs. One turn on the road had six crosses.

We were curious. We set out to find out the reason behind the crosses. Some people said it was because the area was full of Catholics. Some said to help people pray on their way to work or back.

Mr John Gomes tells us the story of the plague

Then we met Mr John Gomes, a resident of Chapel Road. There are six crosses all a stone’s throw away from his house. He told us almost a century back, Bandra had been struck by a plague. Many people died. This place was overtaken by rats who spread the disease by biting people. “People were dying like flies, Mr Gomes told us. “We would bury someone, some back and see another person had died. The dead were sometimes carried away in cartloads. Many people packed their belongings and fled to the mountain.” Which mountain, we asked. Mt Mary, he replied. (Mt Mary is a church in Bandra situated on a little hill facing the sea). That is why people built the crosses, Mr Gomes said, to protect themselves from the plague. As a plea to Jesus to save them. Had anyone died in his family? No, he replied.

This cross was built in 1907. The plague ended in 1906.

We later found out that the plague happened between 1896 to 1906. Lord Sandhurst, who was the Governor of Bombay at that time, appointed a committee headed to combat the plague. There are over 150 commemorative crosses in Bandra.

There were other reasons for building some of the crosses. In a very old book called ‘Bandra: Its Religious and Secular History’ (published in 1939), local historian Bras Fernandes writes this: “People believed that evil spirits haunted the junctions of three roads, burial grounds and even the ponds in the paddy fields that stretched beyond Hill Road. Many stone crosses were thus erected on “less frequented roads and along the seashore, chiefly to preserve the living from the fear of ghosts and the spirits of darkness”.

Nowadays the crosses are spots where people stop to pray. Or hang garlands. People gather in front of the big ones during religious festivals and sing and chant.

My Mohalla: Rafoowaale Chacha

Posted 03 May 2010 — by admin
Category My mohalla, Street Vendors, Uncategorized, neighbourhoods

By Sakshi Khanna, 12

I see him every day when I come back from school, sitting on a little ledge next to an old dry cleaning shop on Bazaar Road in Bandra (west). He sits there from 10 till 1 pm every day, squinting at the piece of cloth draped over his, stitching deftly. Sometimes he looks up, straightens his back and shrugs his shoulders. He is a darner – that is, he mends torn clothes. This skill is known as rafoo – the delicate and very old art of hand-mending torn clothes, using tiny, almost invisible stitches.

He has a handpainted sign behind him advertising his services. When  asked him what his name was he said “Just call me Rafoowaale Chacha (Rafoo Uncle), that’s how everyone knows me.” He told me he has done this for as long as he can remember. “I think I am sixty or sixty seven years old. And I have been doing this for more than fifty years. And I will continue till my eyesight’s fine.” He lives in JJ Colony and walks at least a kilometer every day.

With him, he brings a bag full of scraps of cloth. He unravels the cloth pieces to get thread of different colours for rafoo. He says this is how the best rafoo is done  – either with thread from the original fabric itself or from scraps. He has a very thin needle with him so as to not leave any marks of repairing. “It should look like it has never been torn.” He makes between Rs100 to Rs200 per day.

While I am talking to him, four customers come up. A woman comes up with a pair of jeans. Another customer, Prajukta, says her kurta was torn while traveling in the local train.

Prajukta  says she swears by Rafoowaale Chacha. Once she had given him a dupatta with many holes and he darned it perfectly.

Rafoowaale Chacha tells me he lives with his wife – “all my sons have left with their wives.” And that they suffer from many health problems – “diabetes, heart”. He requests me to put his phone number in my story about him in case anyone can help them. Here it is: 9867446323.

By then, it’s nearly one o clock. Rafoowaale chacha wraps us everything, picks up his bag full of scraps and smiles at me. Then he leaves for home.

My Mohalla: The Keymaker

Posted 22 Apr 2010 — by admin
Category My mohalla, Street Vendors, neighbourhoods

By Subhashri Acharya, 10

Have you ever been locked out of your house because you left your housekeys behind inside the house? It’s happened to many people I know. Who do you go to? The local keymaker of course.

In Bandra, where I live, you can see many keymakers on the pavements. All of them use colourful handpainted signs to advertise themselves.

But the one who gets noticed most is Javed Khan. His ad is a giant, bright yellow and red key hanging from a tree. You can see it from really far away.

Javed Khan has been making keys for 35 years now. He says he began making keys when he was just ten years old. Sometimes he gets many customers. Some days he gets a lot less. Human beings keep losing the many different keys they have in their lives – the car keys, the keys to the cupboard, two-wheeler keys, keys to a safe or a locker.

He says he makes anything from five to fifteen keys in a day. He showed us a huge bunch of old keys and different sets of key blanks. When anyone comes to him to make a duplicate, he cuts the key blanks into the required shape. Sometimes when you do not have a key at all because you have lost it, he can measure the keyhole and make a key for you.

He uses many tools to make keys. When he is making a duplicate, he uses a special prong to measure the distance between the notches in a key. Then he cuts and files the duplicate key according to the measurements he has taken. He uses different files to shape keys.

Sometimes he uses this machine to cut the notches in the key. He ordered it all the way from Delhi. It costs Rs20,000!  It uses two things to make a copy of a key in less than a minute — a sensor and a cutter.

Are you wondering how much it would cost to make a key? Anything from Rs5 to Rs40, depending on the key.

We gave him a key to make a duplicate of and he made it in eight minutes ten seconds flat.

I asked him what if some thief or a criminal comes to him to get a key made, can he make out if someone has bad intentions? Khan said that it is very difficult to make out. But if gets suspicious of someone because of wrong signals or vibes, he just refuses to make a key.

Javed Khan told us he is from Lucknow in Uttar Pradesh in north India. He says people in his family have been making keys for many years. His uncle was a keymaker too. He likes to live in Bombay because the climate is always pleasant here.

Watch a video report of this story on Jalebi Ink’s YouTube channel:

The Keymaker on YouTube

My Mohalla: A bone-setters shop

Posted 21 Apr 2010 — by admin
Category My mohalla, neighbourhoods

By Tanvi Paul, 13

I was going to my weekly dance class in Juhu one day. I saw this little shop. It was a bone-setters shop. It was on a very narrow street called Garage Galli (because the narrow road has so many mechanics and garages). My mother told me bone-setters are also known as jerrahs and hadvaids. In Mumbai, in parts, you can still find some families who have been practicing bone-setting for 12 generations. Bone-setters say they can make out the nature of a bone injury by just looking at the area or by feeling it. They do not need X-rays. A lot of people who cannot afford hospital bills and expenses come to the bone setters.

Did you know that our bones are not heavy at all – in fact they account for only about 14 per cent of an adult’s total body weight. But the outer part of our bones is as strong as tough as reinforced concrete.

We know that our bodies can heal broken bones on its own but it does need a helping hand to realign them properly. This is where the ancient trade of bone setting comes in. Here are some fascinating facts I dug out: In Egypt in 10,000 BC, physicians stretched limbs until the bones realigned. They would then set them with splints made of tree bark wrapped in linen. Bamboo splints were used in Asia. In Europe, blacksmiths doubled as bone-setters.

My Mohalla: Art on the walls

Posted 18 Mar 2010 — by admin
Category My mohalla, Public spaces, neighbourhoods

One morning, we woke up to see the walls in our neighbourhood, Bandra, in Mumbai had been adorned with paintings  – some beautiful, some fantastical, others strange but interesting and some that were like bad squiggles in our text books. It was fascinating – a walk to the school or bazaar is now a completely different experience. We don’t know what we will come across. A barber with a razor, twirling his moustache. A skeleton calling itself the ‘ghost of Bandra’.  Amitabh Bachchan. A blue face with a red tongue sticking out – this reminded us of the image of goddess Kali, only it was a man’s face with a moustache. We decided to spend a sunny afternoon exploring the painted walls.

Here are some photos of that afternoon. More graffiti is coming up all around us. We will keep track and keep you posted.

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My Mohalla, Jalebi Ink’s Neighbourhood Project, tracks the history and culture of neighbourhoods through the people who inhabit the spaces, their individual histories and cultural influences. Would you like to join us? Write to us at jalebi.ink@gmail.com