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| That’s Nimki with red in the front and Baby Loaf with his at the back. I always buy gifts for both if its an occasion. |
My dietician has increased my daily step count target from the one she gave me last week. She has asked me to send her screenshots of my daily step count. There is no scope to fudge!
The first target was tough enough. I was not sure how I would meet that. I was in for a surprise. I met and exceeded my target significantly every day. She hearted my screenshots.
“I will take a break today.” I whatsapped her. “Please walk,” was her reply.
So here I am. In a tee, shorts and sneakers. Not jeans and sandals. I have decided to make the evening walk, a walk with purpose. I will walk and run errands at the same time.
I reach Pali Market. I need to buy a sharp kitchen knife in lieu of the one I have dropped behind the cupboard. Our cooks have not taken kindly to my losing their knife. Apart from the knives, I want to buy a flask to carry on my walks. I sip water during my walks to avoid dehydration.. I carry a packaged bottle at the moment but am wary of being called out by the woke generation.
My destination, Kamal Steel Emporium, is shut. It’s their Sunday evening break.
I head next to the pet shop to buy a gift for our younger cat, little Nimki, who turns 3 tomorrow.
I pass by Maharashtra Channa Bhanda which is located beside Jai Hind. I stop. I buy channa sing for home. Two 200 grams of channa sing mixed together. “Sing what? Channa sing is local lingo for horse horse gram and peanuts. I buy 2 packets for K. The time I am prepared. “Do doso gram ke packet de na. Har ek main sau gram channa aur sau gram channa.”
The ever-smiling shopkeeper takes out both from aluminium tins. He places the mix in a large strainer and brushes the channa sing with hands wearing plastic bags as gloves. He prepares the two packets after he has separated the skin from both. I pay him with cash as I need the change. I move on with the bags, past the Pali Naka’s traffic, Joshi House and GreenR, the two new(ish) restaurants that lie opposite each other in a tiny, traffic packed lane.
“Are you the Finely Chopped,” calls out a young boy.
I turn around. I have that bashful expression that I don when people recognise me (which is very rare) while feeling chuffed inside.
“Do you know S.”
“Sorry, I can’t place her.”
“She was with you in college.”
“Oh yes. Now I remember. We were classmates.”
“I am her son! I am interested in culinary arts. I follow you and cook from your recipes. I am thrilled to meet you.”
“Oh, that’s very kind of you. We must catch up over coffee and chat about this someday. Do give my regards to your mum.”
I resume walking and reach All for Pet Care Pet Shop. The shop owners have changed, as has the name. The earlier one, Shopawholic, rolled more easily off one’s tongue.
K said I should buy a new collar for Nimki. “He takes it off and why put on this sign of bondage,” I reply. K rolls her eyes.
I ask for feeding bowls. There are the usual stainless ones. Then I find two plastic ones with bright designs encasaing feeding bowls in them. These are perfect. “I have one question. Won’t the cats find it to eat from? Are these dog bowls?”
The store-manager, who has survived the ownership change, assures me that they are meant for cats.
“You can return them if you face any problems.”
“How can I? I will know only once I put food in it,”
I pay for the bowls. I pay for tins of cat food. I move on with the cat bowls. I ask them to deliver the cans tomorrow.
Dinner is leftover paneer makhani from what Anu sent the day before and chholay that Erika dropped yesterday. There are no rotis. I decide to walk to Khane Khas to pick two wholewheat tandoori rotis.
Atul Saini, the partner who looks after marketing, sits in the evening. Hardeep, the chef partner sits in the morning.
I see Atul at his station. I place an order for my rotis. “We both have beards now” I exclaim. I have a short cropped fuzz. His is more full. Both are salt and pepper. Mose salt than pepper.
We trade diabetes stories and tales of our walks.
The rotis are ready.
“How much,” I ask.
“Let this be on us,” says Atul.
“But why,” I reply.
“You have not asked for a discount in the 25 years we have known each other. Nor have we given you a single Rupee discount. We had a nice chat today. Let’s think of this as a part of that,” says Atul.
I gladly accept the gift of rotis and began climbing up the small incline to reach the Ambedkar Road stretch and head home. Taking the winding inner lanes of Bandra to increase my step count.
I compose this post as I walk.
I plan to tell you about the walks that mark my life stages in Mumbai. Of walking down Linking Road on weekend evenings from my PG at Bandra Talao when I was alone. I would stop at McDonald’s. Have a fillet of fish and a strawberry milk shake, use the facilities and walk back to my PG. I would stop at the HP Petrol Pump at the intersection of Linking Road and Turner Road. I would withdraw money at the HSBC ATM. Then go to the cool supermarket. I had seen nothing like this in Calcutta. I buy razors, Horlicks biscuits and Tropicana orange with grape tetra pack.
I then made friends at work. We would often go to places such Tiffin, Thai Baan, Toto’s, Just Around the Corner and Khaane Khas for dinner. I made it a point to walk back to my PG from these. It would keep me trim.
Then there were walks down the lanes of Bandra which ended with our having dinner when K and I were dating. We wanted each moment to stretch till eternity, as lovers do.
I suddenly see Khar Gymkhana. I have walked in the opposite direction. I am embarrassed. Here I was going to write about how I know each inner lane of Bandra and yet I am lost! I ask a security person in a building to point me to Pali Market.
This time I take the right road! I see the Brownie Cottage outlet at Pali Naka. I enter it. Our neighbour Gia told us about how much she liked the brownie cake that I had given her from here. This was when she took us for lunch to Tanjore Tiffin Room to celebrate her 21st birthday. I wanted to buy the same cake.
I step in to find the owner, Prachi, to be there. I interviewed her for my podcast over zoom sometime back. We had not met in person before. Her friends from school were there. As was her teacher from school. And her husband, whom she did not know when she was in school!
I take many selfies. I buy the cake. It is a Belgian dark chocolate one.
I walk home. I climb up the stairs. Give the cake to Gia’s grandmom and move up.
I open the door and walk into our apartment. It strikes me that I have become one of ‘those’ people who eat salads and count their steps.
I can’t even recognise myself! Can you?
