As the regular readers of this blog (all five and a half of you) already know, I love food. I love food so much that I don’t really care what I am eating. And of all my meals, breakfast is my favourite, by a long way. Being a morning person, I usually wake up with an enormous hunger pang, which, if not satiated, can lead to serious consequences. Even in campus, there were multiple occasions when I would bang at the mess door sharp at 7:15 am, demanding that they feed me.
So, this Saturday, I finally did what I should have done a long time back. I got up at a godforsaken hour, traveled all the way to Colaba (by auto/train/cab) to savour the much-touted breakfast at Theobroma. I had been there a few times and I could swear by its pastries and cupcakes, but breakfast, ladies and gentlemen, was a different ballgame altogether. I ate till I was full up to the neck, then I stopped, and then ate some more. Of course, the slow service helped in regaining my appetite. Given the generous sprinkling of foreign tourists and rich South Mumbai crowd, the mere mortals from the suburbs are treated as second class citizens, but for a change, I hardly noticed it.
If that wasn’t enough food, I also watched English Vinglish, which is basically a story of a middle-aged woman who makes awesome laddoos and rants about her life. Sridevi, in her comeback movie, was a natural, but the melodramatic musings made it a typical Bollywood affair. For instance, if your kids are so mean to you, you probably deserve it for bringing them up as spoilt brats. May be I don’t identify with the context, may be I am too insensitive to appreciate the insecurities of a woman with limited exposure or may be I am just too judgmental, but at the end of the day, the movie failed to move me.
And then there were the old memories rushing back as I walked through Nariman Point, stopped for cold coffee at Geoffrey’s and shopped at Crawford Market.
South Bombay continues to have a charm of its own, long after the whole of Bombay stopped making sense…