Wonderful part of the city. Far, far away and (relatively) peaceful and with enough greenery to (almost) convince you that you are nowhere close to Bombay.
Went there and saw some lakes and an old, old fort. And I saw this movie shooting (pretty frikkin cool I thought) and then went and had some kashmiri food (yes, in thane) and then borrowed some books from the Thane friend and had nimbu paani in glass bottles.
Place called Durga Snacks on the main road of Thane (I think its called Janpath but not sure) and they give you this small, glass bottle of nimbu paani. Properly chilled, with a white straw sticking out. Kinda like Keventers except the bottle is a lot smaller. Thought it was a wonderful way to serve the nimbu paani. And just six bucks. Naaaice.
Took an early morning train to Thane and so got to walk through Dadar’s flower market. If you ever think that Bombay’s streets can only smell bad, take a walk along the station, through the stalls of flowers, and the flowers on either side of the road. Pretty fuckin awesome way to start the day methinks.
And then on the train ride back, it was raining and when you are hanging outta the train, the drops hit you like tiny bits of sand, and so you grimace and grin at the same time, cause its so stupidly green and beautiful outside and each time a train passes you by, you get hit by these waves and waves of air. But it gets tiring after some time cause you are holding on with one hand, and the tiny bits of sand (water) are just not stopping.
Wonderful. In the morning though, I did spot more than a couple of naked bums on the tracks.
Which reminds me of the time I went to this place Gopalpur At Sea (I swear thats the full fuckin name) and I managed to land up on the beach before dawn. So I waded into the water and just walked around. And then, as the sun came up, I could see people shitting all over the beach. Letting the oncoming tide take care of their tatti.
Full unromanticised beaches for me. For some time anyway.
I met someone with the strangest of ideas today. Of buying Jawa 2-strokes and Contessa’s and wondering whether the academic discourse can be taken over so completely and so thoroughly that an alternative becomes impossible.
I quite like that word, “alternative”. It has a bit of hope, mystery and something about it. Like the international word of mystery I suppose.
I am your alternative baby.
No, that did not sound right.
The name’s native. Alter-native.
This shit ain’t gonna get no better.