Spending a couple of months in a different part of the country makes you long for more familiar terrain. And when your tongue is dead* after having sweet-tasting sambhar and near-tasteless dal for every other meal, you are left with little choice.
On a rather chilly Saturday morning, a friend and I decide to make our way to what they call the “T.Nagar/Mambalam of Mumbai”. The local from Mumbai Central is sparsely populated, much to my surprise; I am told that it is the North to South train route which lives up to the stereotype about Mumbai local during the early parts of the day.
Alighting at Matunga (East), we are told to walk to the Matunga station (which is on another local line) en route to the area proper. After taking an overbridge and getting clumsily lost in a railway workshop (!), we finally reach our destination. A familiar sight greets us:
Our primary goal being finding some non-sweet sambhar, we head to Ayyappan Idli, on a cousin’s suggestion. The place is a nice 10–15 minute walk from the Matunga local station.
A humble-looking spot, it serves a wide variety of South Indian delicacies. A must-visit, if you live in or happen to visit the city!
Our taste buds satisfied, we move on to the one place which feature in most Matunga to-do lists- The Book House. En route, we stumble upon some signature South Indian food recipes.
The Book House is just behind Madras Cafe. If you have the patience, you can chance upon some gems.
I come across many titles which a widely-read friend back from college used to reference. Picked up a couple, for a decent deal.
We now realize that the day has just properly begun, and that the climate is lovely. Hence, we begin strolling around the locale aimlessly, taking roads that suit our fancy.
One adjective to describe Matunga would be pretty. Lots of greenery, serene housing localities, and a generally homely vibe. An interesting aspect is the presence of quite a few Gujarati signboards: hotels, residential complexes, community associations.
Bhandarkar Road and the adjacent streets form a shopping area. Small enterprises, with writings in Tamil and Malayalam, sell everything from mundu/veshti and set sarees to cutlery. A bit further is a lush green cricket field, buzzing with activity. Many young players in action, clad in full whites, are intensely absorbed in their games. The sweet sound of willow making contact with the ball is a delight to hear.
The Matunga station is nearby, and my companion decides to leave. I resolve to take a bus for the return journey. Retracing the Bhandarkar Road route, I spot a Tamil-type temple; the gopuram’s style gives it away. I enter to hear Tamil everywhere- priests performing archanai**** for devotees, Appas and Ammas struggling to keep pace with their animated kids.
Just when I begin to think that I’ve come to the end of the trip, I see this:
Classic coffee house setting. And the filter kaapi** is top-tier; certainly ranks among the very best I’ve had in my life. The price (Rs. 35) and the taste remind me of what they serve at Madras Coffee House stores; there is a certain magic to it.
It is almost noon now. The bus route back is rather long-winding; it takes a nice detour across the western part of the city. Newer areas come into sight. And what is public transport without conversations on politics? The passenger next to me isinvolved in one with the conductor in Marathi (it certainly wasn’t Hindi); he seems to be quite opinionated about “Marathi manoos” and the “Bharatiya Janata Party”. Not something entirely unexpected here.
Overall, a huge thumbs up to Matunga for the serenity, the food and most importantly, the distinctively South Indian experience!
*tongue is dead — Literal translation of the Tamil colloquialism naakku sethu pochu, which is what happens when one is continually exposed to bland, insipid food
**kaapi — Authentic Tamil pronunciation of coffee
***paruppu podi — Powder made of dal, spices etc; served usually as an accompaniment to rice
****archanai- Personalized puja