The Unending Road

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It’s an unending road. I can walk it come rain or shine, in stilettos and flip-flops, and everytime revealing something I missed only 24hours ago. It winds past sentinels of the past, some still standing, others that were brought down crashing like the old stone landmark structure that was known as Bank of India but popularly known as ‘Pinto’ Bank in honour of its beloved manager Mr. Francis L. Pinto and the ice factory just across the road from Pinto Bank. A lot of memories frozen forever as the only image of the factory and endless days of summer holidays spent at play down that lane is the image that the fading memory conjures up.

The road compels me to continue on our journey to unravel sentinels that still stand in the shape and form of cottages and bungalows as old as the hills, cobbled paths that lead me into a world full of history and charm that is waiting to be decoded. The centuries old crosses that dot corners everywhere makes you want to stop and breathe and not walk on by. The strains of music and chatter on a Sunday afternoon bring back memories of an idyllic childhood. Time seems to stand still but the road tugs and pulls me along in the direction of aromas coming from kitchens of bakeries in the bazaar and eateries that have stood the test of time. It’s plain Good Luck that the road pulls me right up along the old irani still dishing out biryanis and shwarmas for each generation that knows good luck isn’t just to wish upon a star!

The road hasn’t tired and neither have my feet as the unending road takes me past rows and rows of glittering new buildings and establishments, which though an eyesore yet seem to be residing quite peacefully next to the old guard, perhaps learning in whispered tones the hallowed history the upstarts have to contend with. And then I pause and take a second look as the road takes me down past rows of beautiful cottages and new buildings towards another old legend called Candies, that change is the only constant, but it needn’t be at the cost of the past to make the present a misery for tomorrow.

The new will come as the old road has shown and as I get pulled towards soul fry casa and pali I realise it’s upto the old to shape the new. As my road pulls me along, another sentinel guarding lives along the path of this unending road that is Bandra, stands head and shoulders above everyone and everything old and new and reminds us when the chimes fly out from its steeple that in the end ‘ALL IZZ WELL’…..