Bandra, oh Bandra

 

Bandra will always be my beloved. It released the shy south Indian in me, and let me be just what I want to be.. tattooed, curly-wild mane, shorts and androgenous looks:)

 I remember once I ticked off a guy for jumping queue in the very back-of-beyond suburb Kandivli east where I lived in a state of suspended animation for years. He looked at me, as I am then as now, with tattoos (less those days) , wearing a leopard print rock-chic shirt, unforgivable in his eyes. In his limited world view as an Indian male, making it obvious what he thinks (that  dolt with diapers still on). And instead of cringing for lack of manners he says archly and with almost a spit at the end of his tongue, says, "Look at you." I mean to say, my leopard chic shirt was full-armed, my wild mane was tied back, and I had full pants on. Yet, he thinks that I should dare to speak to his holy maleness.. so he tries to bulldoze me with rudeness and says, " Look-at-you!" Hoping I will be reduced to ashes and blow away with the wind!!  Arrggh.. it is so irritating this habit. In the south, if you ask a man for a direction, he will pretend you are talking to the wind --- that you are not there. There is something seriously wrong with the Indian male, and you may have to psycho-analyse the entire families, and possibly, the guilty mothers for this terrible lacunae in how they treat the women.

 

But in Bandra this disharmony in the Indian male is somewhat (only somewhat) muted, so you can be just who you are if you can switch off some of the rowdy behavior (largely, I believe, from people from outside Bandra who think this is where THEY should let their hair down, and misbehave).

 

Any case, so since I am reviving my city blog after aeons, what better way than with Bandra bytes:)

 

So, see the image above.  And don't miss the name of the  paan shop. It is very very very cute, and hatke. I asked the paan shop owner if I can click, and he waved me on generously. I was at the traffic signal, where four roads meet (at Lemon Grass restaurant) which is where this paan shop is. There is another paan shop close to lemon grass, more humble roof, and no name. But this one, it rocks, na?

 

I was going to ask him why that name, and the story behind it. But I stopped being a journalist, though did not stop being curious. So, while I fought with these two identities, I slipped the opp to ask and here, there is only the image. If any of you go to him, ask him. I am sure, there is a tale:)