How on earth Starbucks can be more expensive in India than it is in the U.K. is a question more easily answerable when you realise they lump service charge on top of your bill despite the fact you order at the counter and collect your cake and coffee there like anywhere else. (It also may be due to customs tax) Won’t be visiting you again, Starbucks…
Anyway, after getting ripped off at Starbucks and exploring the book shops of Jio World Drive, I walked to Bandra station and got the train to Churchgate, where I finally visited the Leopold Café. Leopold Café was nothing but busy and underwhelming. Turns out it’s only famous because of the 2008 terrorist attacks, when a bunch of Pakistani men took a boat across the Arabian sea, landed at the Gateway of India and opened fire on several shops and restaurants, the Leopold Café being one of them. A total of 175 people were killed. I had heard the bullet holes were still visible on the walls of the cafe but this turned out to be untrue, and I had what may well turn out to be the most boring meal I ever eat in India. Egg and Chips.
I later made up for the lame-ass egg and chips I had the Leopold, with the dinner I had on Mohammed Ali Road.
The Mohammed Ali, of which the road is named, is strangely enough in dispute. It is popularly believed that the road is named after a scholar called Mohammed Ali Johar, who was the chief patron of Khalifat – a movement started in 1919 by Muslims to protest the dismembering of the Ottoman empire and the Caliphate by Western Powers in the aftermath of World War I. Although, there are various other Mohammed Ali’s to whom the road may also have been named.
Mohsin showed me the way. ‘This is the real Mumbai’ he said, as he hurried ahead of me, dodging round the endless people, bikes and stalls and getting intensely frustrated with me lagging behind. A snake like bridge wound its way above us, beneath it and around us sped auto rickshaws as well as people. Populating the road and the sidewalks were bakeries, restaurants and many shops selling Arabic perfumes. The scent of perfume was all around, with the smell of baked goods only occasionally getting its nose in. I munched some Vada Pav while we made our way to a Muslim restaurant called Shalimar.
Shalimar was an enormous dining hall, as loud and bustling as the market outside. Despite how busy it was however, the waiters were extremely kind, helpful and delightfully friendly.
I ordered Kaju Gosht with garlic butter naan. It was sweet and reminded me of korma. Mohsin looked at my food in disgust. He approved of neither the portion nor the taste. I was surprised. I thought the portion was decent and I’m usually the one who’s hard to please in that department. I suppose I could have done with more mutton… Still though, that naan, there was so much of it, so garlicky… so buttery, and with that sweet Kaju… DAMN. The basket was loaded with delicious bread and I felt pleased that I took Mohsin’s advice not to order any rice. I certainly didn’t need any.
As Mohsin and I got the train back to Bandra, I managed to put him in hysterics yet again when I was practicing my Hindi out loud. I couldn’t understand what was so funny, until he told me that due to my mispronunciation of ‘Padh rahi hai’, I had not said ‘she is studying’ as I had intended, but had in fact said: ‘She is farting’. Oh well.
It has come to my attention that I still need to book my train out of Mumbai. In fact, it is starting to get a bit ridiculous… it’s almost like I’m just living in Mumbai…
…Part of the problem here is deciding where I’m supposed to be going next. The original plan was Goa, but every second person I meet advises me against it. Do I go to Goa or not?
