Khotachiwadi – a slice of history
A Bombay lesser known. That is what I would call a place like Khotachiwadi. The common metaphors used for the megalopolis have nothing to do with quaint neighborhoods, clean alleys, afternoon siestas and a slow pace, and those are exactly the metaphors that would be used for Khotachiwadi.
I went to Khotachiwadi on a Sunday afternoon, armed with a camera and instructions on how to get there, and promptly lost my way. Eventually, after a lot of wrong turns and direction-seeking, I chanced into Khotachiwadi, and there was a sudden difference in the vibe. No car horns, no pedestrians walking hither-thither, no roadside shops hawking their wares – there was just a narrow alley, with multi-colored houses on both sides, and ending at a very brightly painted red-and-yellow two-storey house. It was heart-warming.
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17 families, 1 house
The ‘Committee Chawl’ which houses 17 families in one structure – all the 17 families are, or were, associated with the Khotachiwadi cricket club. The interior of this chawl, by the way, is a striking example of efficient usage of space and good design.
First look at Khotachiwadi
The bright colours, wooden stairs, balconies, tiled roofs and the narrow bylanes had me blink a few times. On a hot Bombay March afternoon, the air was surprisingly cool and unsurprisingly tranquil.
Khotachiwadi Walk
A long long time ago, almost 6 months ago, I had done this walk through the lanes and bylanes of Khotachiwadi – a part of the sprawling city of Bombay which time and modernization had apparently missed in its craze to reach someplace else. Armed with my Canon camera, I captured some of the sights and idiosyncracies of the locality.
For the next few days, I will post some of these snapshots from the walk, and also a short essay about the walk.
Running & writing
A few weeks ago, I had ocassion to read ‘What I Talk About When I Talk About Running’ by Haruki Murakami. It is an autobiographical book about the author’s running efforts, which are praiseworthy. For someone who took up running to keep himself fit because he had a sedentary day job of writing, his results are remarkable. On an average, he has completed a marathon a year, while also doing an ultra-marathon and a few triathlons.
The book is very allegorical in style, good read although repetitive and slow at times. But the repetitiveness is why the book stuck in my mind. Mr Murakami stresses on the one point of training and discipline, and draws the seemingly ill-fitting analogy between running a marathon and writing a book, and describes both as intensely physical activities. Writing needs immense concentration which draws as much of the body’s physical reserves as running a marathon. We are free to form our own opinions on that, and say that it is too simplistic, or it is too far-fetched but I do agree with what Mr Murakami says, in essence, at least.
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