Mysore Pak

6th January, 2020.

I finished my morning class and was sitting in the staff lounge when one of my senior final year students, approaches me with a cheery Good Morning. He has just returned from Bengaluru and we exchange pleasantries. Then, he presents me this brown packet with a large box of Mysore Pak in it. My eyes spark with happiness as I take it from him. This is how life responds when we are engaged in the daily grind. It gifts us happiness in the form of Mysore Pak (in my case.)

Yesterday, on a cold wintry Bombay morning, I reached Kyani Bakery at Marine Lines and met my Swapbook family for a book walk through three catholic neighbourhoods of Sonapur, Cavela nd Dabul near Marine Lines. We hugged and squeaked with delight as friends met after a long time. As we started walking through the now empty Sunday morning streets in JSS road, I became aware of the buildings and people around me. Our conversations reached a zenith as we all laughed and ribbed each other in good humour. It made me feel at home with these people who are not just friends but my extended family of readers. We know each other for about five years now. A number is such a finite construct as I look back at countless memories shared with my reader family. We gathered in an old school compound with two of Bombay's oldest catholic residential buildings still standing strong amidst a city of chaos. One could at once feel the calm and serenity as the road ended with a spacious turnaround with seating benches with plants around the periphery. The battered timber battens and designer window grills in cast iron with colourful doors made us go back in time to the simplicity of Bombay and its native christian community. 

As I made my way through the narrow streets crowding as the day went ahead, I was hit with a sharp realisation of how much I miss exploring my city from my younger days. I went back in time when walking was akin to exploring and meandering the interior streets for the sheer pleasure of locating Bombay the way it was described in books. There's scarcely a time when I wasn't awed by the beauty in the broken window panes and rusted gates, with the diminished letters on building facades and trying to look through narrow setback gullies. Ah! The joy of rediscovering my city on the first Sunday really makes me hopeful of many more such walks, conversations and happy spirits ahead. For now, I cherish my Monday with a dollop of soft, gooey, sweet Mysore Pak that's invigorating my senses! Cheers to a great week ahead and many more sweet happenings too.