Seedha..barabar, barabar...

I have always had a fascination for the Juhu beach of Mumbai. I cannot tell you exactly why.

May be the name sounded alluring.

May be it somehow felt synonymous with the tinsel town superstars.
I use to imagine that people like Amitabh Bachchhan and Amir khan came for their usual evening stroll in that beach. I know, as a close friend tells me, that I am being no exception as half of the nation thinks the same way. Anyways, it became a sort of obsession with me to reach the ‘paradise’, as my mind conjured up the image of the place.

So, I made up my mind about visiting the Juhu beach. I convinced my tired other half, Deva, to take me there. He agreed, of course after much cajoling.
Now, handicapped without GPRS and a road map, we went out. 

But the elusive Juhu beach seemed like an insurmountable, elusive destination.
So, I decided to try the time tested formula, i.e, ask the taxi drivers and the auto drivers (autowallahs!) about the place.

We were somewhere in Colaba, caught in a traffic jam, when I met this taxi driver and asked him for directions.

The man smiled an all-knowing smile. He glanced at us as if he, a superstar of his own standing, was staring at lesser mortals. After some tensed moments, the man replied, “Juhu beack ke liye seedha..barabar, barabar jaane ka Madam.”

We went straight, as the mighty man had directed, and after manoeuvring through the narrowest possible lanes in all of Mumbai, we landed almost in the backyard of a seedy building which looked like a haunted palace.
A lone autowallah was enjoying his afternoon siesta. Hesitantly and with some apprehension, I woke him up and asked where the precious Juhu beach was. He replied, “Madamji, Seedha..barabar, barabar.”

Deva, by now impatient and harassed, took a u-turn and went straight again, and we ended up at exactly the same point where we had met the taxi driver!
After spending a good one hour in the boiling crowded streets of Colaba, we went “Seedha..barabar, barabar” as per the direction of each taxi driver and autowallah whom we asked for directions.

This exercise led to the consequence well expected! We spent another couple of hours in a marketplace swarming with clothes of all shapes, sizes and colours, jewellery of each metal available on the earth and shoes made from the leather of every animal including human beings! In the absence of any proper direction, we wandered about like “poruwaye puwa manuh”!!
I was desperate! Where was this “Seedha..barabar, barabar”?

Mind you, the full stops are mandatory after “seedha” . It adds that extra ‘zing’ to the all-knowing autowallahs and taxi drivers of Mumbai.

By then, the enthusiasm was waning. My sons were crying out of hunger. They felt that their mother had really lost it. And then, much to my relief, and after venturing through almost all the localities of all shapes and sizes in Mumbai, we reached the Juhu beach at 7 pm at last.

And with about the entire population of the world in the infamous beach, I could not locate either Amitabh or Amir. But yes, the mighty sea was at its best avatar. The inviting waves were relentless in their zest, and the lesser mortals (and this includes yours truly too) were happy and relaxed. Life seemed good, almost seedha…barabar, barabar…

So, we all j settled for platefuls of “Pao- Bhaji”, enjoyed a couple of “kala-khatta”s, and lamely sat in the car on a very tired backward journey home…I guess the tinsel town superstars have to wait for the time being to hand out their personalized autographs to me…