Retrieved via the Wayback Machine. Originally posted by ken

The Times of India security personnel cast suspicious eyes towards the crowd of people gathered outside the building. They had an inkling of what this was all about, but weren’t exactly ga-ga about it. As Abha, the guide, took the third batch of people through a whirlwind session of Bombay and its origins, several passers-by joined the pack; which was beginning to take the shape of a pregnant C. Planet M, next door, provided the biggest addition of onlookers. And some got hooked.

While the origins of Mumbai, from seven islands to commercial capital of India, are now quite well-documented, certain details never fail to make you cock up and listen. The Times of India for instance, originally had its offices in the Bazaar area, behind the GPO, and its current location is where they used to store cotton bales. The Grand old Lady of Bori Bunder, an acronym from the belly of the past. Bori, for sack and Bunder, a landing for boats. Even if you try and stretch the imagination, it is hard to fathom that there used to be a bay where the Times of India now stands, that the Victoria Terminus (VT) was built on reclaimed land. In the age of Google Earth maps and global positioning systems, Abha encouraged the crowd to use the mind as a crosshair and visualise the fort walls, 40-feet wide, beginning from Lion Gate and stretching right down to St George hospital.

There were several historical tidbits that would today be slotted as trivia: The Portuguese were only interested in converting Indians to Christianity and setting up churches, but when the island was gifted in 1661, the English realised its value. Our beloved city was leased to the East India Company for a royal sum of nine pounds per annum. There were several audible chuckles at this point. Everyone’s heard of Apollo Bunder, but not many know that the Apollo is a corruption of Palwa, a fish found in Bombay waters, and has nothing to do with the Greek God.

Inside the Times of India building, the ‘walkers’ were granted the privilege of seeing the front page of the first edition of the newspaper (November 3, 1838). Many were surprised to see that the page was full of only advertisements. And a couple of women, piggybacking through time with an ad for tables, began comparing prices of furniture, now and then. The cynics (or shall we say, realists?) said, Wow, the Times of India has come full circle.

Also interesting, was the Independence Day edition of the paper, with the left-hand side having a picture of Gandhi and the right-hand side portraying Jinnah. Poignant. The top left and right corners had two ironic ads. One read, For Leaks, please call. and the other was for Talcum powder - when the country was being torn apart by the blood of partition and waking up to the smell of freedom.

Onward march to Victoria Terminus, then, and the air was heavy with expectation of nightfall. Few sights rival the swathed-in-mango-light Victoria Terminus, under the stars. While we waited for the lights, Abha took a class in the history of the structure. VT took ten years to build and few might be aware of what an ‘of the people, by the people and for the people’ endeavour it was. From the statues of the lion (British) and the tiger (Indian) at the entrance, to the sixteen faces of native tribes sculpted in stone, the edifice is a tribute to cross-pollination. Students from the JJ School of Art were commissioned to sketch the carvings, busts and sculptures, which were then cast in stone by the genius architect-designer, Frederick Williams Stevens. The Central Railway is the oldest in Asia and its peculiar style of Indo-Gothic architecture hard to find anywhere in the world.

An officer spying the ‘walkers’ was spotted on the second floor balcony, his khaki uniform blending beautifully with the basalt and limestone construction. A priceless snap for the memory. Victoria Terminus is as gorgeous within, as it is without. Cast iron rails, Italian marble and the stone carvings of birds and rodents round off its exquisite looks. One quickly runs out of superlatives and adjectives to describe its magnificence.

Call it corny, but standing under the same arch as the police officer, one floor below, I let my gaze wander across the street where the city was gyrating to the movement of peak-hour travellers rushing home. Perhaps it was a privilege to be part of the walk, but as Abha pointed out several times during the walk, citizens should be given a chance to understand and enjoy their heritage. Not fight for permissions and bureaucracy to get a couple of hours to relish what is rightfully ours.

If you feel for the heritage of this city, mail heritagewalks@hotmail.com