Flower Power & Love in Kala Ghoda

Mrs. Khanna, owner of the arty Samovar restaurant, Jehangir Art Gallery, had a problem. Not because the barefoot Husain and other artists chilled there, but because stoned kids made it their adda.

One entire length of this fav watering hole opened out into the garden of the Prince of Wales Museum, and the kids would take chairs from the restaurant, and camp there, tripping on peace, Woodstock and hash.

Samovar or Sams, as we affectionately called it, is where I first saw M. I was sitting there with a friend, instead of on a bench in college, quietly minding my own business. We had just seen some great art at one of the exhibitions at the Jehangir, and came here for a coke.

Then in walked M, with his gang. He was the most beautiful guy I had ever seen in my life. He swaggered through and straight into the garden. He and his gang started rolling joints. “That guy is mine”, I told my friend, and she gave me a strange look that said, “As if”.

Now if I make up my mind to get a guy, I get him.
By next day, M was mine. I was very happy, sitting behind him on his bike, hanging onto him as he tore through town, my face buried in his neck, our hair – his was longer than mine - getting tangled up and streaming behind us. Melanie Kafka’s ‘Candles in the Rain’, ‘Court of the Crimson King’; Emerson, Lake & Palmer, Dylan, Doors, Tull, Deep Purple, Jefferson Airplane and others, became my life.

After getting a whole load of complaints from the other straight guys at Sams, and from the Museum authorities whose land it actually is, about the stoned kids hanging out there, Mrs. Khanna put a wire fence across and stopped access to the garden.

So it remains till today.

But it was good while it lasted. M, his friends and I also spent many hours sitting on the steps of the Jehangir (after some time they told us to get out of there, as well). We split in a couple of years, and I did not see him again. Until recently, when he came back. But that’s another story…

Today, the Kala Ghoda area has officially become Mumbai’s art district, and its pride and joy. The Kala Ghoda Festival Committee hosts its festival of art, craft and music here once a year, for a couple of weeks, in the Jehangir and several buildings around, as well as in the streets, which are closed to vehicular traffic during that time.

Outside the Jehangir, along the pavement, is the open air Art Plaza, and many new and upcoming artists can exhibit their works here. Which is great - one has to wait maybe years to get a booking at the halls inside the Gallery.

Across the road, the heritage structure formerly known as CJ Hall (across from my alma mater, St. Annes High School) has been transformed into one of the best venues for displaying art. With its high dome and beautifully designed interiors, it was perfect for Picasso’s works, exhibited about a year ago. I had come away from there, humbled by the experience.

The Wayside Inn, legendary for its steak and onions, has closed down. Rhythm House, where one spent many afternoons enclosed in one of its cubicles with a stack of LPs, is now unrecognizable and keeps CDs and DVDs. Bullock Cart, one of Mumbai’s first discos, has gone through many changes and is now the Noodle Bar. Khyber restaurant, taken over by a member of the Mumbai glitterati, rocks. The near-by Café Royale, once an Irani joint, became fancy and Bill Clinton had lunch here with a few select Mumbaikars, including Sanjana Kapoor of Juhu’s Prithvi Theater. Chetna restaurant and art gallery has survived.

And the Kala Ghoda statue, which gave this area its name, is nowhere to be seen. Horse and rider are probably chilling in some forgotten godown, but not without contributing to Mumbai’s glory.