One of these three signals is on the blink, and the other two are hidden by vegetation, effectively rendered invisible.

Pictures accompanying our report showed the signals hidden by overgrowth. Especially worrying is the fact that the faulty signal is at a crucial junction used by those who do not wish to take the elevated road. There are no speed breakers on the stretch, which means speeding cars, faulty signals and no speed breakers are a recipe for disaster on this stretch.

This edit goes beyond one or two signals and specifically this junction, to flag a larger problem of signals and sometimes signage becoming invisible. While here, it is about vegetation; several times, some posters are obscuring vital safety infra like signals. These posters, many of them the inane self-congratulatory posters put up through the city, congratulating our sterling politicians, partially hide these signals. At times, trucks and huge vehicles are parked at corners, turning a stretch into a virtual blind spot for citizens. Even signage warning of a sharp turn ahead or a road closed is, at times, covered by banners. This is a significant compromise on road safety, and authorities cannot or should not ‘wait’ to be informed about it. Traffic authorities need to keep a wary eye out at all times. In a city where driving, walking, and crossing roads are challenging to say the least, every attempt must be made to keep order and mitigate danger.

This is not about switching off one light, saving one litre of fuel, or postponing one purchase. This is about protecting India’s external stability at a time when the global economy is once again becoming uncertain.

CA Dr Mitil Chokshi is a senior partner at Chokshi & Chokshi

To understand the economics behind this announcement, we must realise that India is not just a growth economy; it is also an import-dependent economy. We import a large part of our crude oil, gold, fertilisers, edible oils and many critical industrial inputs.

A trail

Charting the trail, we will see when global crude prices rise, when shipping routes become risky, and when geopolitical tensions disturb supply chains, the pressure does not remain outside our borders. It enters our trade deficit. It pressures the rupee. It increases inflation. It affects government finances. And ultimately, it reaches the common household.

PM Narendra Modi. File pic

Every unnecessary dollar spent on oil, gold, luxury imports or avoidable foreign travel has to be earned through exports, financed through capital flows, or defended through foreign exchange reserves. That is the hard truth of external economics. Hence, why spend foreign exchange when the same product can be bought in rupees?

When the Prime Minister speaks of austerity, the message is clear: reduce avoidable dollar demand before the situation forces tougher policy action.

The pattern

Fuel conservation is not just a moral duty; it is an economic necessity. Oil is India’s biggest external vulnerability. Once again, see the pattern. A crude price shock first widens the import bill, then pressures the rupee, then raises transport costs and finally pushes up food and retail inflation.

People wait with empty LPG cylinders to avail the refilled ones in Mumbai on March 27. File pic/PTI

An oil shock never remains an oil shock. It becomes an inflation shock. It becomes a fiscal shock. It becomes a household budget shock. Indians not wasting on travel to the office, and reverting to the same work from home during COVID is a wise choice. This should have been announced within a week of the war, but like they say, better late than never.

Golden words

Gold is another example. We love gold culturally, emotionally, and financially. Yet, economically, gold imports are a direct foreign exchange outflow. When we buy imported gold in excess, we are also importing pressure on the current account deficit. The more Indian rupees that circulate within India, like during COVID, the more efficient future growth will be.

Global energy

The fertiliser issue is equally important. Fertiliser prices are linked to global energy markets. If costs rise, either the farmer pays more, or the government subsidy bill rises. Both outcomes affect the economy. Services should be completely procured from Indian entities only; some more joint services by ‘Made in India’ entities should be mandatory, and countries like South Africa, France, and China have done these in the past. No harm in customised replication.

Stability marker

Therefore, this austerity call is not anti-growth. It is pro-stability. It is not about stopping consumption. It is about distinguishing productive consumption from avoidable leakage. Markets will read this message carefully. Import-heavy sectors, crude-sensitive sectors, companies with dollar borrowings, logistics, aviation, chemicals, and consumer discretionary businesses may feel pressure. At the same time, exporters, domestic manufacturing, energy efficiency, and import-substitution businesses may gain relevance. Already, we are seeing that defence outlay to Indian entities is increasing!

Action caution

The punchline is simple: this is not a crisis announcement, but it is a cautionary signal. India’s growth story is strong. Despite significant outflows from FPIs, the Stock markets have held up firm. But even a strong economy must respect external shocks. Austerity, in this context, is not weakness. It is preparedness. We are staring at a weaker rupee and more expensive life due to the rising import bill, but we have seen worse days in the 1990s and are smart Indians who know how to optimise. In economics, confidence and consumption matter. Growth matters too. Optimisation, indigenousness, thinking Indian at every step is key.  Decoding for the layman, we can say reach out for your pizza and pasta, but when cooking it, go for ‘desi’ ingredients. When on pizza or pasta, I end with a cheeky or saucy sign-off. May the sauce be with us.

Chokshi: No crisis, but be cautious

The punchline is simple: this is not a crisis announcement, but it is a cautionary signal. India’s growth story is strong. Despite significant outflows from FPIs, the Stock markets have held up firm. But even a strong economy must respect external shocks. Austerity, in this context, is not weakness. It is preparedness. Decoding for the layman, we can say reach out for your pizza and pasta, but when cooking it, go for ‘desi’ ingredients.

CA Dr Mitil Chokshi is a senior partner at Chokshi & Chokshi

The film’s female lead (Chitrangada Satarupa) plays a sincere, professional actor, somehow surviving in Bollywood’s struggler-central, Yari Road, and thereabouts. 

Opposite her is Nawazuddin Siddiqui as a depressed, retired banker in Frankfurt. They get into a day-long conversation, over video-calls, that turn into an acting workshop of sorts, in real time. 

Filmmaker Aditya Kripalani

Beyond that art, including acting, equals therapy, in its own right — MANH engagingly examines the sort of emotional turmoil that artistes go through, in order to produce art itself. The art is public. The toll is inevitably personal. 

Aditya explains, “In a sense, acting is the opposite of spirituality. Wherein you [profess to project] outwards, but end up peeking deeper within, instead.” Aditya read screenwriting from FTII in 2003. 

Ever since, he’s remained the rare champion of self-expressive, low-budget filmmaking, prolifically writing-directing-producing since his debut, Tikli And Laxmi Bomb (2017) Tottaa Pataaka Item Maal (2019), Devi Aur Hero (2019), Not Today (2021). 

MANH is his first theatrical release. For a genre, the film belongs to the naturalistic mumblecore, wherein the distance between reality and fiction feels zero. 

In an early scene, you watch actor Naveen Kasturia make a cameo — his slacker comedy, Amit Masurkar’s Sulemani Keeda (2013), similarly set in Mumbai’s competitive, migrant movie-township, is a fair sample for the said film type. 

Another fine Indian example is Ram Madhvani’s Let’s Talk (2002) that launched the brilliant 

Boman Irani’s film acting career, in his early 40s.

Aditya met his star, Nawaz, through Instagram who, in turn, came onboard his film, without charging any fee. 

Frankly, it’s hard to instantly imagine Nawaz as a polished, super-suave, former manager director of a top bank in Germany. 

It’s harder still to see this NSD-grad since 2012 (Gangs of Wasseypur), in particular, as anything but an actor. His character’s learning the ropes of acting, throughout MANH. As is the audience. Nawaz has to act like a non-actor. It’s a bloody bold move! 

I remember Nawaz telling me, once, that the world of social media — where the public was getting so used to watching people, as they are, on the screen, round the clock — was making it all the more difficult to reproduce the same reality as an actor, onscreen. It’s so much easier for audiences to spot fakeness then! 

I can kinda sense what must’ve drawn Nawaz to Aditya’s script. It’s could also be some of the films he’s starred as lead in, lately — the sorts of Haddi, Tiku Weds Sheru, Jogira Sara Ra Ra… 

MANH equally explores the thick line between art and circus. Fundamentally, artistes (actors, included) tend to gain, if they’re in line, or naturally inclined, towards seeking validation from crowds of strangers, for what counts as base-level entertainment. 

Or simply playing the influencer/PR game. You sell out to earn more. No knock, or moral judgement — there’s also a living to be made, no? 

It’s brutal to so clearly witness the talented, professional actor, Mouni, in MANH —and Chitrangada’s incredible, no doubt — pursuing art as soup for her soul, while being denied basic riches/comforts that her day-long banker student, Adnan, must’ve taken for granted all his life. 

Tradeoff is, perhaps, hers alone. His job could’ve been mind-numbingly mundane/boring, compensated for with great pay. Jealousy is still complete. 

While certain audiences are getting moved, in unknown ways, by his film, and you can see why, Aditya tells me he saw MANH in another light himself last night. 

So much of writing is subconscious. And one of his favourite films (mine too) happens to be Ram Gopal Varma’s Rangeela (1995), also placed in Bollywood.

Aditya argues, “Over there, Mili (Urmila Matondkar) was a ‘dabba’ actor, but she wanted to be a star. Mouni is her sadder version, going down a rabbit hole. 

The film is a tribute to Rangeela!” 

Which was a musical, of course. Unlike MANH that, as Aditya explains, was simultaneously shot, live, over 33 days, straight — with the lead actors between two cities (Mumbai, Frankfurt), responding to each other’s lines that changed with each frickin’ take! 

The film dives into emotions that actors draw out for performances. But that’s just one crippling aspect of art. You need the distance of plain, clinical skills to pull it off still. Nobody notices that. Or is meant to. 

Aditya sounds kinda pissed to me that film critics, in general, haven’t quite acknowledged the technical craft that went behind the making of MANH. If I was him, I’d take that as a compliment. 

Mayank Shekhar attempts to make sense of mass culture. He tweets @mayankw14
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The views expressed in this column are the individual’s and don’t represent those of the paper.

Lady Flora smiled, “Well, yes and no. I also consider myself an ‘active’ custodian of this city, and don this avatar at nighttime, for obvious reasons. A dear friend and committed Bombay wallah joins me on this mission; you know him well —  Sir Pherozeshah Mehta.” Miranda managed a half-grin. “Is it? This is fascinating. And is Mr Mehta expected tonight?” he checked, politely. As if on cue, Sir PM’s heavy footsteps emerged from the far corner of Somaiya Bhavan. 

He looked shocked when he recognised Miranda. “This cannot be…no way this is real,” he exclaimed loudly. The artist grinned, “Well, Mr Mehta, you and Lady Flora have already blurred the lines of reality and fantasy.” Soon, the trio rolled back to the wonder years, when Miranda’s cartoons were mainstays of India’s leading dailies and news magazines. “I absolutely adore your characters — Miss Fonseca, Rajni Nimbupani, Shri Bundaldass and Moonswamy! You captured the spirit of the city’s eclectic and eccentric junta like a true-blue Bombaywallah. Your work was seen everywhere, in the 1970s and 80s, from textbooks to calendars, murals and magazines. We owe you so much,” Sir PM went on to recall his favourite cartoon strips and cityscapes by Miranda. But Lady Flora knew something was amiss, given his mood when she had spotted him. She cut in, “Mr Miranda, is anything the matter? You seem upset…”

Miranda shared, “Honestly, I was taken off guard. Close friends will tell you that I never chased fame and accolades. But on May 2, my 100th birthday, I felt that the city which I gave my time, ideation and creativity to, forgot me. Not an exhibition or a discussion about my canvases and artworks was on show. My student life, and a large part of my middle age was spent here, in this city — my karmabhoomi. My work seems to have slipped out of public memory,” his voice lowered as the last sentence rolled out.

Sir PM and Lady Flora were unsure how to console an icon. Sir PM began, “Many newspapers, including mid-day carried exhaustive coverage, reminding readers of your invaluable contribution to Indian art, and your slice-of-life canvases, in your inimitable, witty style.” Lady Flora joined in, “And, there were numerous odes on the new-age tool — social media too, to celebrate your work.”

Miranda looked up, “Really! That’s comforting. Somehow, the love, time and thought I gave the city… I felt it began to fade away, especially in the last few decades after my passing. Barring the mural at Café Mondegar, and panels at the Cathedral & John Connon Middle School and St Xavier’s College — my alma mater, all I see are cheap fakes. Silly me to have actually headed to the city with expectations! I am grateful to my Goa which has hosted many exhibitions of my work. Even Bengaluru has organised a show, which makes Mumbai’s miss doubly painful. There is no permanent space to view my work here,” he sighed. Lady Flora added perspective, “Young people might not know you but have realised that it’s “cool” to post about your work. That’s an effort. With the oldies, like us, I admit, a city-based cultural platform should have held a show or at least a talk to hail your artistic contribution to Mumbai. For that, Mr Miranda, we apologise, and promise to make amends.”

mid-day’s Features Editor Fiona Fernandez relishes the city’s sights, sounds, smells and stones...wherever the ink and the inclination takes her. She tweets @bombayana
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The views expressed in this column are the individual’s and don’t represent those of the paper.

In our recent report, a resident, while acknowledging that he was fortunate to live in front of a maidan, highlighted that a lack of regular watering by the BMC is concerning. A dearth of water/moisture leads to a dry ground. This means dust pollution, affecting those living there, creating an unhealthy environment.

In our report, we had civic officials stating that immediate action would be taken to lessen dust pollution. The BMC, on its part, explained different kinds of soil are used to top playgrounds. This layering actually safeguards players by cushioning against serious injury.

It is heartening to see officials responding to resident concerns. Statements must be backed by action and a quick survey will show how many in the immediate vicinity of the maidan are affected due to the loose soil. If more misting/watering is needed in the summer, the civic authorities can increase the frequency of the watering. There are some specialised nets that can be looked at, as a barrier against pollution. 

In the end, let all our maidans, so precious to the city, be maintained. They are oases in cement-centric Mumbai. Locals can constructively criticise or complain when and if maidans need attention, and let authorities act fast when needed. Maidans are a summer go-to spot too, little getaways and recreation avenues for Mumbai. Take pride and preserve them for our people.

A local stated that at least 30-50 vehicles have made the beach a permanent parking spot. 

There are also large vehicles that supply lights and other items required for film shoots. We have learned that there is a politically connected individual who is controlling these spots and charging a parking fee.

The alarming aspect is the number of vehicles that have been parked is on the rise. We need signage saying this is illegal, and authorities coordinating to monitor this space. We cannot have different agencies passing the buck about whose jurisdiction this falls under. 

A senior police inspector from Santacruz did accede that one-off, sporadic measures against the parking will not do and a more coordinated, smoother solution is needed with different official arms working in tandem for a permanent end to this.

It is important that the authorities investigate whether claims about individuals making money by giving parking are true and act accordingly. Given the history of this city, with its parking rackets, this may very well be credible and in fact, can be a substantial fraud. Crack down on complaints.

I have spent much time and energy discussing the Smart Cities Mission in the past, primarily because the government of India appears to have forgotten about it. Back then, it felt as if the project needed to be monitored because of how it could transform India into a country envied by the world, instead of how it is usually looked at. Now, it appears as if we can finally forget about that ambitious plan and move on, because we have a new accolade to be proud of. A couple of weeks ago, it emerged that 95 of the world’s 100 hottest cities now belong to India. It was framed like a bad thing by those annoying foreign reporters, but I would humbly put forth the suggestion that this is something every patriot should be proud to broadcast. Finally, after decades of trying to be good at something, we have succeeded, even if it’s with a little help from Mother Nature.

There’s nothing wrong with a little extra heat, despite what environmentalists, scientists, doctors, and anyone who has studied beyond Std X may say. 

The genuinely intelligent among us — those with degrees in Entire Political Science, for instance — will know that India is fast becoming a canary in the proverbial coal mine. What we are doing is nothing short of miraculous, because the heat will transform us into the world’s first nation truly prepared for the inevitable apocalypse.

If this sounds far-fetched, consider the temperatures that much of India has been learning to deal with lately. Mahabaleshwar, which was once referred to as a hill station, recorded 21.3 degrees a few days ago, which was supposedly the lowest minimum temperature in Maharashtra. 

Temperatures in several regions have surpassed 40 degrees C, reaching close to 45 degrees C in some areas. This is the new normal we can all get used to, and I believe it may explain why the government isn’t wasting time on anything other than tips on staying cool.

I don’t want to use this column to propagate conspiracy theories about why India is the hottest country on Earth. I don’t want to discuss shrinking forests, why or how the definition of a forested area has been changed, or why our cities no longer have trees. I would rather reiterate what experts say are the causes of this heatwave: hot winds, more sunshine, and a delayed monsoon. I believe trees are overrated and get way more attention than they deserve.

What I do worry about is the time it will take for a billion Indians to acclimatise to this new normal, because dehydration has been known to adversely affect vital organs, including the kidneys and heart. 

We may have to explain these unnecessary deaths in some way, at some point in the future, but I take comfort in the fact that the COVID approach may help in this regard because this country tends to move on from such morbid events rather quickly these days.

In related news, another thing that’s been painted out to be catastrophic, but isn’t, is the issue about air quality. Apparently, residents of a Finnish town called Kuusamo breathe in 0.3 micrograms of particulate matter per cubic meter of air, making it the world’s healthiest air. 

By comparison, those living in Bihar’s Begusarai breathe in 118.9 micrograms per cubic meter. Of the 100 most air-polluted cities, 84 are from India, and that’s another thing that’s being portrayed negatively by journalists presumably envious of India’s rise towards becoming a global superpower. It’s why I’m glad the government isn’t taking these statistics seriously or choosing to dignify them with a rebuttal. If we start to worry about pollution and heat, who will focus on issues of genuine importance such as the right language to be used by rickshaw and taxi drivers?

The onus on tackling these undesirable narratives is on us, and the best way to do that is to welcome heatwaves and poor air with a smile. A majority of Indians may not have access to healthcare, water, shade, or fresh air, but that shouldn’t stop us from seeing the bigger picture. 

We may suffer in this lifetime but, when the rest of the world starts to crumble within the next 50 years or so as ecosystems collapse, I believe the citizens of just one nation will survive. Poor air and water only make us stronger. 

The world may pity India today, and accuse its government of incompetence, but I think it is Indians who will have the last laugh.

When he isn’t ranting about all things Mumbai, Lindsay Pereira can be almost sweet. He can be contacted at www.lindsaypereira.com
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I opened the door, there stood a Michael Jackson lookalike — the spindly man held a pose, he had a hat on, tinsel on his jacket and a white glove on his left hand. He kept spinning on the spot, almost falling over each time, “Don’t stop till we’ve had enough”, the spindly man kept singing, breathlessly.
The man then tried a Moonwalk and promptly fell over.

“Can I help you… uhm Michael?” I enquired hesitantly.

The man got up off the floor and said indignantly — “Arre wot men, boss it’s me Dikuna men, Lobo Lobo.”

“Ohk I said, why are you dressed up like the greatest showmen of our times?”

“Arrey men, Dikuna men, I just saw dat movie, Michael, I went to dat our side PVR Virar, and I sat in de same audi and saw de movie, on repeat one show after de udder, six times, you know like how Mumbai Indians dress in MI outfit for matches at Wonky-ede, I put on MJ clodes.”

“You enjoyed the movie that much?” I asked. 

“Off cuss, but also I seed it wid different different peepuls —  first I saw wid my dat gang, my carrom group on our side, BCCI, Boys Carrom Club of India. Den, I had to take members of de family, my cuzzins Lester, Lassie, Lamington and Lancelot - then I accompanied my dance class.”

“You attend a dance class?”

“Not attend, we teach and conduct, dat our side Virar-Bhayendhar-Mira Road-Bhandup, I teach all all different type of dance steps, samba, rumba, quick step, ballroom, salsa, tango, fandango, breakdance, Bollywood style and also Tauba Tauba and we teach Michael Jackson’s special Moonwalk.”

“Lobo Lobo you teach the Moonwalk, that most complex of MJs steps — like walking on air, I just saw you fall over, what kind of teacher are you?”

“Arrey men, I tripped, anybody can trip, dat blinking road repair outside your house, wot I’ll to do. Anyway your interrupting my tought flow. Den I had to take my mom-in-law, to see de fillum. She’s toh crazy about Michael, you remember when he came to town na, in de 90s at  Andheri Sports Complex, she tolded me. ‘Hey duffer Teo, I want to see dat Mikey dance’. And so I bleddy had to take her men, den all dese years later, she was so besotted, she just had a hip replacement, still she wanted to get up and dance when he sang dat, ‘Beat it, just beat’. His singing is an inspiration to me, reminded me of my yout, how much I danced to dat bugger’s music, in dat Sea Rock disco, de Cellars, and H20, Razz Rhino. Boss Dikuna, I was a MJ fan men, arrey damn bald ragged dat peepuls are critcising him and de movie, accusing him of all all tings… see men, why can’t peepuls just enjoy wots in front of dem, my own mom-in-law, one witch she is, but onie time she’s happy is when she’s hearing him, when I was hearing dat song, ‘Don’t stop till you get enough, I wrote my own lyrics to de song and dedicated to de BMC, song is called — 
PLEASE STOP I’VE HAD ENOUGH NOW BEAT IT YOUR’E BAD

“Hey  BMC man... oh yeah... hey Bulldozer man
Yeah… yeah…
Pavements, oh yeah pavements
Where I used to walk (oh pavements)
Pleeez stop, oh please stop we’ve had enough
No more digging, (no more digging)
We’ve had enough
Please stop with the bustop, please stop we’ve had enough
We’ve no roads, no streets
Puh-leeez stop we’ve had enough
Stop coming around here, men 
So beat it, just beat it
You better run, you better do what you can
Don’t wanna see no blood,
You wanna be tough, better do what you can
So beat it, but you wanna be bad
Just beat it (beat it), beat it (beat it)
Just beat it (beat it), just beat it (beat it)
Just stop we’ve had enough
You’re BAD.
Just stop, we’ve had enough, now beat it... you’re bad.

Rahul daCunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, filmmaker and traveller. Reach him at rahul.dacunha@mid-day.com

Valmiki presents Rama primarily as an extraordinary human being — a prince who embodies discipline, honour, and moral strength while facing the dilemmas of son, husband, warrior, and king. His conduct becomes an ideal for society. Kamban takes this human hero and gradually elevates him into a divine figure. In Kambaramayanam, Rama lives, feels, and acts as any man would, yet his compassion, restraint, and moral clarity constantly hint at a deeper divinity. Tellingly, Rama himself never declares that he is an incarnation of Vishnu. Even when others recognise him as divine, he neither confirms nor denies it. This delicate balance between humanity and divinity gives Kamban’s Rama an enduring resonance.

Kambaramayanam is also far larger in scale. Where Valmiki’s epic has around six thousand verses, Kamban’s has over ten thousand, with nearly half devoted to the Yuddha Kandam, the war between Rama and Ravana. This reflects Tamil literature’s love for dramatic conflict, heroism, and emotional intensity.

By Kamban’s time, Rama was already a familiar figure in the Tamil world. He appears in Sangam literature, in the devotional verses of the Alvars and Nayanmars, and in echoes within Silappadikaram and Manimekalai. Kamban worked within a cultural environment where Rama was already worshipped as an avatar of Vishnu.

Kamban reshaped many episodes to suit Tamil sensibilities. Female characters are treated with greater dignity. Ahalya is depicted as a woman deceived by Indra rather than morally flawed, evoking compassion. Tara, Vali’s wife, remains a widow rather than remarrying Sugriva, in keeping with Tamil ideals of loyalty. Surpanakha first appears as a beautiful woman attempting to win Rama, not as a grotesque figure driven by lust.

Some narrative changes are particularly striking. In Valmiki, Ravana physically carries Sita away; in Kamban, he lifts the entire hermitage so that he never touches her. Guha, the hunter chief, becomes not merely Rama’s friend but his brother, and Kamban extends this brotherhood to allies such as Sugriva and Vibhishana, emphasising universal fraternity. He also introduces new episodes, such as the story of Hiranya narrated by Vibhishana, to highlight the power of devotion over arrogance.

Through these transformations Kamban enriched the Ramayana with additional moral themes: devotion, friendship, ethical warfare, loyalty between siblings, and universal brotherhood. His poetic brilliance, combined with his sensitivity to Tamil culture, gave the epic a distinct character. Kamba’s reworking of the tale was part of the devotional movement started by Alwar poets who saw Ram as God-on-earth, a form of Vishnu-Narayana. His idea would spread northwards with compositions in Telugu, Odia, Bengali, Assamese before Tulsi-dasa would write his magnum opus Ram-charit-manas, in Awadhi, in Akbar’s reign, nearly six hundred years later, on the banks of the Ganga.  

The author writes and lectures on the relevance of mythology in modern times. Reach him at devdutt.pattanaik@mid-day.com

This batting feast is thanks to some superb pitches being made by the curators at most of the grounds. There has been no thought of preparing a pitch to suit the home teams’ strengths and so we have seen this plethora of sixes and boundaries. The boundaries are easily understood but some of the sixes could be catches if the boundary ropes were extended instead of being brought in, making some grounds look even smaller than they are.

Spicy pitch exposes batters

Yes, the crowd comes in for some big hitting high but there’s greater excitement in a match that’s on a razors edge and finishes in the final over than the one that finishes around 15th over, where half the crowd is making their way out knowing what the result is going to be. Where the pitches have been a bit spicy, most of the batters have been exposed with their tendency to go on the front foot. So, when the ball comes at their helmets, they are in an awkward position and end up not only getting out but looking very ordinary while doing so. Jofra Archer and Kagiso Rabada, two of the fastest bowlers in world cricket, have made the batters hop and jump even on pitches where there’s not been much bounce and carry to the wicketkeeper. 

This is where one feels that the restriction of only four overs to a bowler could be looked at again. If a batter can bat the entire 20 overs, why can’t a bowler who gets, say,  three wickets in his four overs be allowed to bowl another over as a reward for getting those wickets? This way teams will also try getting wickets instead of trying only to save runs being scored. After all, the best dot ball is the wicket-taking dot ball, isn’t it?  Yes, you could conceivably have three bowlers getting three wickets and an extra over each. That would even up the playing field a fair bit in a format where just about everything is stacked against the bowlers. Look at the small boundaries, the strict interpretation of the wide for a bouncer going marginally over the batter’s head and such like. So, giving the bowlers and the fielding captain an incentive to take wickets and not just be defensive from the first ball, would be something worth trying out. As with every new playing condition, it can be trialled in the many city leagues that are coming up. Then in the Syed Mushtaq Ali Trophy and then if found that it does level a format which is more batting friendly then it could be used in the next year’s IPL or maybe in the next cycle of IPL starting from 2028.

Many years ago when I was in the IPL Governing Council, I had in my personal capacity written to the captains of the eight franchises asking them how the IPL could be made even better than it was. Most replied and while there was no major suggestion, the one from Adam Gilchrist recommending rewarding the teams finishing one and two another crack at the title with the Qualifier and Eliminator was a unique one.

I was pulled up by a member of the Governing Council, who asked with whose authority I had written to the franchise skippers for their suggestions. I told him that I had written in my personal capacity as a former captain and player with the sole intention of seeing how we could make the IPL even better and didn’t need anybody’s permission to write to them. It was now up to the Governing Council to accept or not. They did and now it’s something that each franchise tries to do. Finish in the top two, so they can get another bite of the cherry.

IPL is like our baby

Being invited to be part of the inaugural Governing Council for three years is something I have always cherished. For all those involved then, the 
IPL is like our baby and it’s such a delight to see the baby grow into such a good looking adult now.

Professional Management Group

In Mumbai today, finding a parking spot feels less like city management and more like a daily headache for ordinary citizens. 

A motorist enters a pay-and-park zone, hands over cash to a parking attendant, gets a small paper slip and leaves hoping everything is genuine. Many times, the attendant has no proper ID card, no digital machine, and no clear proof of authority. In a city where even vegetable vendors use QR codes, Mumbai’s parking system still relies heavily on cash collection.

Now, the BMC wants to increase parking charges across the city. But before asking citizens to pay more, people are asking one simple question: what exactly are they paying for? 

Because the current system lacks transparency and proper management. Across Mumbai, motorists regularly complain about overcharging, fake parking attendants, and reused receipts. In some places, cash is collected without proper slips. In others, citizens are unsure whether the person taking money is genuinely authorised by the BMC or simply operating unchecked. 

What is worrying is that this has slowly become normal. 

At a time when technology allows every transaction to be tracked instantly, many BMC parking spots still have no proper digital payment system, no live monitoring and very little accountability. This creates a huge loophole. If collections were fully digitised, citizens could easily know the official rates, fake collections could reduce, and revenue leakages could be controlled. 

But Mumbai still operates an outdated roadside cash system in the name of parking management. 

Even basic information is often missing at parking locations. In many places, there is only a small “BMC Pay and Park” board. There is usually no clear mention of the contractor’s name, parking timings, number of vehicles allowed or the exact parking boundaries. This confusion gives parking attendants too much unofficial power. 

Take Borivli as an example. In some commercial areas, motorists claim parking attendants stop them from parking outside certain shops, claiming shopkeepers object to it. This raises a serious question: are Mumbai’s public roads controlled by the BMC or by private businesses? Or is the parking contractor operating beyond authorised limits? 

Citizens also feel that parking rules are enforced more aggressively in quieter residential lanes and near gardens, while heavily congested roads outside malls, restaurants, and banquet halls remain poorly managed. If the real purpose of parking policy is to reduce congestion, why does enforcement appear weakest where traffic problems are actually the worst? 

This is why many citizens now feel that parking is slowly turning into a roadside tax collection system. The formula appears simple: identify places where easy money can be collected and keep expanding paid parking there. 

For many middle-class families, parking fees are no longer a small expense. Between rising fuel prices, toll charges, traffic fines, and expensive vehicle maintenance, citizens already feel financially stretched. 

Now, even stopping a vehicle for a short time outside markets, railway stations, or hospitals often means paying parking charges. Citizens are not opposing discipline or organised parking. What they are asking for is fairness, transparency, and proper facilities in return for the money being collected from them every single day. In a city as advanced and expensive as Mumbai, people expect better systems, not more confusion. 

Vehicle numbers have increased massively over the years, but planned parking infrastructure has not kept pace. Several multi-level parking projects are delayed, impractical or underused. In many places, expensive parking buildings remain empty while vehicles continue occupying public roads outside. 

No one denies that parking regulation is necessary. A city like Mumbai cannot function without discipline. But regulation without transparency starts feeling like exploitation. 

Before increasing parking charges, the BMC must first fix the system itself. Every parking spot should have digital payment facilities, proper signboards, GPS-marked parking boundaries and complete contractor details displayed publicly. Citizens should know exactly where their money is going. 

The BMC still has an opportunity to rebuild public trust. But increasing parking fees without fixing fake collections, confusion, and poor planning sends the wrong message. 

A growing number of Mumbaikars now believe that inconvenience itself has become an urban business model. And that may be far more dangerous for the city than traffic congestion itself.

Sanjeev Shivadekar is political editor, mid-day. He tweets @SanjeevShivadek
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Reports said the mayor took to ‘X’(Twitter) to say she visited the fish market in Vakola, spoke to Kolis and assured them that there are no restrictions on fish cutting in any fish market across Mumbai.

While the much-needed clarification came quickly, it is important that we always check and double-check social media before forwarding as these rumours can spiral into a dangerous situation.

Be sceptical of these reports and check if they are endorsed by officials. Are they just ‘forwards?’ Has anybody actually spoken out in these so-called reports? Has the mayor made a statement? Has she been quoted? Verify before simply talking about it or forwarding and sparking concern and unrest.

This could have easily turned into a tense situation, with an entire community affected and livelihoods on the line. Then, one will have the inevitable interference from those who benefit from divisions and giving communal colour to any event.

In an age of information overload, it is good to use what we have wisely and well, for the correct reasons. Credible reports are helpful and informed individuals make up an empowered society. The message is: do not provoke, alarm or incite. Instead, absorb, weigh, think, and react only after a complete factual check.

Recently, there was a complete blackout in the garden for a week, after which makeshift floodlights were installed.

Broken lights, benches and trash on the grass, mainly due to people not using dustbins, have also been seen. A water fountain has no water. The garden’s responsibility currently lies in limbo between the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) and Mumbai Metro Rail Corporation Ltd (MMRCL), as the transfer process to the civic body (maintenance authority) is still underway. While this is an internal issue, at least basic maintenance and regulation can keep this garden neat, clean, and usable. We cannot allow the space to go to seed because of wrangling. This is one of the few spots on a buzzing road, where there are so many senior citizens living around who use the park for walking and health benefits. Let somebody take over and look after the park. No use re-making a park that lies in a derelict condition.

This week, social media was full of Met Gala this, and Met Gala that. The annual extravaganza’s theme for 2026 was Fashion is Art. And so the celebrities came out,  trying to outdo each other. What were the Kardashians wearing (why are they still even a thing)? They were so nipple forward, that I think they have a new bra brand launching? Why did Hyderabad model Bhavitha Mandava, who is now a Chanel ambassador, wear a jeans-and-top ensemble to the red carpet??? Well, duh! It was designed by Matthieu Blazy to mimic her 2025 Chanel debut look. But was the original art, or this supposed to be art? IMO, neither was. Oh and Blake Lively was there, just hours after settling her case with Justin Baldoni. They are calling her  archival Atelier Versace gown from spring 2006 her revenge look, because as she said, “Every year I am a different version of myself than the last, so to be able to stand in the version of myself that I am today—and all the experiences I’ve had—in strength and confidence is important to me”. Full power to her.

There was also the Indian contingent. There was Isha Ambani, of course, who, as she told us in a now viral video, wore jewels belonging to “mom, mom, and mom,” paired with a Gaurav Gupta sari. She carried a mango batua, and looked decent. But the Internet isn’t quite sure she should have been there. But then who should be? Everyone — right from Ananya Birla (who wore a Subodh Gupta mask and ended up looking like the host of the OTT reality show The 50), Natasha Poonawala, Karan Johar, Manish Malhotra, Diya Mehta Jatia (who is the Ambani’s bahu Shloka’s sister) — why were any of them there? Were they invited by Anna Wintour herself? Did a brand take them? Or did they buy a approximately $100,000-ticket?

Who knows, and who cares?

Should we still be interested in the Met Gala — which this year counted Amazon founder Jeff Bezos and his wife, Lauren Sánchez Bezos, among its lead sponsors, with the couple reportedly paying USD 10 million to support the annual fundraiser? Reports from America say that, Wintour, who was once known to make and break careers, was sidelined for Sanchez, who now is seen as someone who can greenlight movies, and finance brands. Much like what was shown in The Devil Wears Prada 2, everyone now depends on tech mogul money. But us on social media, sitting on our couches or travelling on the metro during rush hour — why are we clamoring to see the filthy-rich flaunt their garish outfits? This is not art — this is a gaudy show of who has more in the bank, in a time where unemployment is at an all-time high. In January, Amazon cut approximately 16,000 corporate jobs in the second round of layoffs.

The Met Gala to me is a sign of everything that’s wrong in the world today — the one per cent rich showing us what they have, and the rest don’t. And the mediocre fashion isn’t even worth getting inspired by. Instead, give me a season of Sex and the City, circa 1998, any day.  

Meanwhile, yesterday, when I was lamenting the fact that this week, it was all about the Met Gala, I got a press release in my inbox that spoke about everyone’s favourite dandy, Rahul Khanna, taking a shower. Yes, you read it right. It said, “Rahul Khanna just took a shower and the internet can’t stop watching”. The actor/emcee/host/fashionista did a livestream on a YouTube handle titled, “The art of taking a shower”. He sipped coffee in his bathrobe, then stripped (don’t salivate, you can only see him till his waist) as he said, “This is not usual for me.” He spoke about water temperature, then shaved, and used a loofah brush… well you get the drift. The 15-minute live stream, which he ended by finishing his coffee, got more than 100,000 views.

I watched it on 2xx speed (just for research purposes for this column). Though I would have skipped it (I like my men more like Jensen Ackles aka Dean Winchester killing monsters), my friend Mohar Basu said, “Don’t be mean to Rahul — the only pretty man left in India.” I am not going to be mean. Khanna did what few could do — divert attention from a Gala that shouldn’t have ever been. And for that, he is now even more “edible” than before.Go Rahul!

See you next time.

Ranting and raving about all that’s trending on social media, Aastha Atray Banan is an author, creator, podcaster, and the Editor of your favourite weekend read, Sunday mid-day. She posts at @aasthaatray on Instagram. 
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The party area of Harish Thawani’s Indus Club was flush with household names in Mumbai cricket across generations; many from that lot going on serving Indian cricket well.

I gathered between the 2025 and 2026 get-togethers, only one of Gavaskar’s teammates had passed on — Jitendra Bhuta. There was a spate of deaths before the August 2025 party and all those teammates were honoured appropriately — Padmakar Shivalkar, Milind Rege, Dilip Doshi, Vijay Karkhanis, Ehsan Hakim, and Abdul Ismail in 2025.

Anil Joshi, who continues to help Gavaskar immensely in organising this annual affair, welcomed guests with a warm smile. Among the early check-ins was Sandeep Patil, who had no qualms in being first in, first out. 
Ravi Shastri was a SMG party attendee this time, not very long after he hosted an evening to celebrate his recent Wankhede Stadium stand honour. He met friends and headed to the bar area in search of his old mate only to discover that Patil had already left the building. Everyone who knows Patil’s penchant to turn in early wasn’t surprised. Shastri then chatted a bit with ex-Podar, Mumbai and Tata teammate Shishir Hattangadi and a host of others under the dim lights.

On Centre Court as it were, there was Dr Chandrakant Patankar, at 95, India’s oldest Test cricketer, soaking in the cricket-heavy atmosphere. Normally in that space, he’d have Nari Contractor and Chandu Borde for company, but the 90-plus former India captains couldn’t make it. However, just like in 2024 (the 2025 edition of the party was at MCA-BKC Club), there was CG Joshi, the 94-year-old Rajasthan player, who came from Pune. And one couldn’t miss Khalid A-H Ansari, whose association with Gavaskar dates back to 1971 and beyond sports journalism. The senior gang also included fraternity-favourite Prakash Kelkar (82), ex-Test player Ajit Pai (81), ex-Mumbai player Vilas Godbole (84), his brother Suryakant (78), Shankar More (84), and Daya Dudwadkar (88) among others like Subhash Patne (80), the Dadar Union and Rajasthan SC bowler, who played for Maharashtra and is a horticulturist. 

Among the Bombay University players in and around the Gavaskar era were Kiran Adhikari, Dr Vishwas Raut, and Prakash Naik, nicknamed Dougie after Australian great Doug Walters. Talking of nicknames, there was Kolhapur-based Avadhoot ‘Alam’ Zarapkar in attendance. Zarapkar caught up with Sachin Tendulkar briefly. He had played for Jolly Cricketers for whom Tendulkar’s brother Ajit played too. Zarapkar had also encountered the master batsman in his early years in club cricket when the off-spinner represented Sunder CC. Zarapkar started getting called Alam in cricket circles because he resembled a character called Alam, played by Raza Murad in the 1973 hit movie, Namak Haram.

Bollywood’s connection with cricket and vice versa was brought home yet again with the entry of Aamir Khan and Jackie Shroff; the surprise elements of the party, I was told. And one day later, Gavaskar revealed in a video that Nana Patekar had cooked the mutton curry that was dished out in the dining area. Till that point, I was merely curious about the ‘Nana’s Special Mutton’ dish tag.

In the midst of all this, I realised that there were enough players in the room to make up a Nirlon alumni group picture. Shastri trooped out of the bar area to join in and they all played true sports! A little later, I overheard Raju Parulkar, who missed being in the Nirlon group picture, narrating how Sandeep Patil had a blue with a Nirlon HR head and taught him a lesson. Talking of Nirlon, whose team that included several India players was disbanded in the late 1980s, the company’s cricket torchbearer Rahul Sagar should be complimented for his efforts in getting Nirlon back in the senior division of the Times Shield. They lost the final to Bank of Baroda recently. Come to think of it, there could have been an across eras Tatas team group picture with Shastri, Raju Kulkarni, Kiran More, Hattangadi, Vijay Mohan Raj, Ajit Agarkar, Jatin Paranjape, Ravi Thakkar, and Hemant Kenkre. And Mafatlal Sports Club too since Mahesh Sampat, Kiran Adhikari, Ghulam Parkar, Zulfiqar Parkar, Chandrakant Pandit, and Raju Kulkarni were around. But back to the party lounge. At one table sat Trilok and Kailash Anand of Sanspariels Greenlands (SG). Gavaskar, who was wearing a SG T’shirt for the evening, ensured the Anands were well looked after just like the bat giants look after young cricketers with equipment all over India.

Gavaskar played a gracious host from start to end and one noticed how he was around when childhood friend Dilip Nabar said goodbye for the night. As usual, it was a night to remember and an apt time to savour one’s good fortune.

mid-day’s Deputy Editor Clayton Murzello is a purist with an open stance. 
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The water tunnel project involves connecting a new tunnel from Amar Mahal (Hedgewar Udyan) in Chembur to Pratiksha Nagar in Sion, which further links to Parel, the Trombay reservoir, and the Turbhe high-level and low-level reservoirs.

As infrastructure needs to be upgraded, and pipes, etc, are replaced, there are bound to be disruptions in water supply and shortages. First, whether there is a shortage or regular flow, we must save water through small measures like using buckets instead of showers, using water wisely while washing cars and turning off taps when not needed, in our daily life. It is surprising to see how much water one can save if there is awareness and intent to do so, and we are mindful of saving every drop from the time we get up to the time we retire for the day. Then, that becomes part of our DNA and how we live.

There is just so much an individual can do, though. Local leaders must see that water tanker operators providing their services at a uniform rate, and there is a regulation on prices for a water tanker. Since water is essential, people and housing societies are held to ransom by many water tanker services, especially during crunch time. The water tanker mafia is born out of these crises.

The odd title, Dug Dug, comes from the thumping sound of a heavy motorbike as it audibly announces its presence, navigating the roads it confidently claims to own.

Which is how Dug Dug starts off, with the rural, drunk protagonist, in a dhoti-kurta, setting off on his bike, albeit a Luna — having downed his drinks, satiated his smoke/nicotine urge, at a Rajasthani roadside dhaba, with red-blue lights.

There’s a very spaghetti-western feel to it all. And he’s just riding, and riding… 

This sequence carries on for quite a few minutes, with psychedelic rock, and deep Hindi poetry on life for background score — plus miles of a spotless, deserted highway ahead. 

This film’s hero, Thakur (Altaf Khan), has no dialogues in Dug Dug. He dies shortly after, in a merciless road accident.  What follows is a low-budget, indie movie about religion/faith, based on news, dressed as fiction. It premiered on an IMAX screen at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF), back in 2021. 

While nobody encourages drunk driving/riding, of course — what Ritwik, 34, tells me he was attempting to achieve with that sequence is that free-as-a-bird sensation, “after you’re two-three pegs down”, on the road, but under control, yet “up in the air!” 

His inspirations ranged from Bajaj Avengers ‘Feel like God’ ad (featuring Sidharth Shukla), and the long, dialogue-free ‘Stargate’ finale sequence from 2001: A Space Odyssey, that he’d once watched on YouTube, set perfectly to Pink Floyd’s 23-minute track, Echoes. 

As it is, he believes the best introductory sequences belong to Easy Rider (‘Born to be Wild’), and Top Gun (‘Danger Zone’). 

Dug Dug is Jaipur-born Ritwik’s debut feature. It somewhat relates to a strangely religious shrine that anybody on the Pali-Jodhpur highway (NH-62) in Rajasthan would’ve surely stopped by, for a minute, to notice/worship a 350 cc Royal Enfield Bullet motorcycle, parked/placed on a pedestal. 

Devotees regularly offer flowers, even bottles of booze for prasad to this Enfield Bullet! For a Rorschach Test, a motorbike with the headlight pointed sideways could well pass off for an animal in the wilds. The motif feels complete. 

Legend has it that a young man in 1988 died by accident on that bike, which was seized by cops. Except, that no matter what the cops did to protect/chain the machine — that bike would inevitably disappear from the local police station, and find its way, on its own, back to the accident site. People believe the spirit of the said rider, now known as Bullet Baba, aka Om Banna, resides in that spot, deemed a ‘dham’ (sacred abode). 

Through this germ of an idea/story, Ritwik builds exquisitely shot, sassily-lit scenes — even if an overstated film, full of stop-motion and montages — on the seamless, universal emergence of a religion/cult. 

The lens still isn’t overtly cynical, let alone atheistic. In my conversations, Ritwik comes across as a believer himself. I’m sure everybody has a view on religion. 

To me, luck equals God. Since we can’t explain the former, the latter will always exist. Isn’t most of our lives, luck, anyway. Also, what’s religion, if not stories we tell ourselves. 

Ritwik argues, “I didn’t want to get into superstition. We manifest, once we wholeheartedly [subscribe] to a belief system.” 

That said, he mildly shows how religion can be manipulated by politics, business, inevitably meddling/mediating between faith, and its followers. 

At the film festival in Kerala, Ritwik met with Anurag Kashyap who, in turn, brought on board filmmakers Vikramaditya Motwane, Nikkhil Advani, Vasan Bala as executive producers for Dug Dug. 

Pretty much the same lot, along with director Kiran Rao had, likewise, lent their names to debutant Karan Tejpal’s thriller, Stolen (Prime Video), that had competed at Venice film festival earlier. 

I suppose it helps with veteran names backing a film beyond blurbs or festival/critical acclaim on posters. 

Kiran had similarly pushed/produced first-timer Aranya Sahay’s Humans in the Loop (Netflix) — finest Hindi film debut of 2025 — about AI; exposing the global North-South divide, through the simplest story of a woman and child among the Oraon tribe in Jharkhand. 

Dug Dug is just as sweaty, spiritedly indie — own money, self-produced, with locally sourced actors from Rajasthan, and post-production meetings held over Zoom. 

Ritwik tells me he read design at NIFT, Hyderabad, and learnt a lot of his filmmaking from Peter Jackson’s vlogs and production diaries on the making of Hobbit. 

If at all, his debut would’ve directly dropped, and sunk on an OTT, after premiering at TIFF. So glad, I caught it at a regular, mainstream theatre, which is where it belongs.

Mayank Shekhar attempts to make sense of mass culture. He tweets @mayankw14
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An official statement said that the state aims to promote environmental balance in Mumbai, which is facing rising temperatures and urban pressure. There was talk about the use of Miyawaki, which is a dense plantation technique.

While it is heartening to see that a plantation plan is being made, we want plans to translate into action, rather than remain only on paper. We have to look at areas where there are no trees at all and concrete rules. It should be those areas that should be in focus, with trees planted there to bring down temperatures and provide succour from the heat.

Development does not mean chopping down mangroves and trees, then these plantations lose meaning. Shelar and his government must concentrate on ensuring transplanted trees survive. They cannot greenlight projects which entail cutting swathes of trees and then identify and tell officials to draw up plans for plantations. 

Preserve what we have, increase trees in places where there is a dire need, hold back projects or think of alternatives when it comes to development and ecology, make it easier for individuals/organisations working in the green space to get permissions to plant trees. That is the way to lead the green effort.

The trend caught on like wildfire, and trails to explore Dharavi popped up from all sides with plenty of takers. To get a pulse of this phenomenon, the editor of the newsmagazine I was then working at, suggested I go undercover to gauge the authenticity of these trails. The end result was an eye-opener. The travel group that had organised my walk was spot-on with the target audience of mostly privileged firangs, keen to get a slice of “Daaravee”. Halts included carefully curated sections of the slum.

Khotachiwadi, Ranwar and other heritage neighbourhoods face the threat of constant invasion from Instagrammers, trail organisers, and reel-makers. Pic/Fiona Fernandez

However, what caught my attention was the scant respect that the guide showed towards dwellers as we moved into the residential quarters. These tourists went berserk, clicking photos, from windowsills, to snot-faced children and emaciated seniors. One tourist looked thrilled after he captured an ageing goat beside a nullah. A woman who owned a papad-making home enterprise, scolded the guide for bringing tourists into her home without her permission as they photographed her sunning papads in the courtyard. “Your greed for money will get me into trouble, like the last time,” she scowled. A few photos from a previous trail had reached bribe-seeking local authorities, who shut her small-scale gig for a while, thereby affecting her daily earnings. That trail offered insight into the extent to which people can go to offer an ‘experience’.

Cut to the present. The handwritten sign that sprung up in Ranwar Village last week, requesting a ban on photography and modelling, is testimony of things having got out of hand. Bandra’s residents and guardians, who work hard to retain the historicity of these villages, will tell you that this was waiting to happen. Try walking down the gullies of Chimbai, Waroda Road, Ranwar or Sherly-Rajan Road, and chances are you will spot at least one walking group; if you aren’t careful, you could also be run over by a speeding Rolls-Royce Phantom. Add to that the countless hangers-on junta who mill around the newest cool, Instagrammable-café, and you have a daylong raucous in these once-quaint neighbourhoods that defined Bandra. 

I recall an instance while walking through Chimbai. It seemed like a quiet afternoon to soak in the charming locality where the shore plays hide-and-seek, and it’s possible to relish the smells and sounds of a fishing village. Out of nowhere, a large, noisy group, possibly part of a photo trail, emerged from the opposite direction. They were clicking photos of residences on either side. Selfies by a wayside cross, or a resting labourer? Why not! The dozing resident feline wasn’t spared. Disturbed residents looked alarmed by the invasion, but were too polite [or scared?] to stop this circus. 

Come Christmas, and all of Bandra becomes a showcase, a window exhibit for walk organisers, Instagrammers and YouTubers. Khotachiwadi, the fragile pocket of history in Girgaon, isn’t spared either. Matharpacady might go the same way, if its residents don’t keep a close eye on this new-age nuisance factor. 

Sure, it’s a free world, and everyone has the right to earn a living, or click a selfie. All we are saying is to show respect and dignity, where households and private properties are concerned. Keep group sizes to single-digit numbers, ensure they strictly follow certain guidelines, seek prior permission from families, do recces and legwork so those homes which form part of the trail, aren’t inconvenienced [unthinkable for our AI-fed heritage experts and historians!] on the said day. If similar guidelines can be followed in and around religious places, why not for such experiences as well?

Heritage neighbourhoods can be preserved and appreciated in equal measure. Else, its citizens will be left with no choice but to take matters into their own hands. Not the ideal way, we’d say, for residents to safeguard their privacy and local history.

mid-day’s Features Editor Fiona Fernandez relishes the city’s sights, sounds, smells and stones...wherever the ink and the inclination takes her. She tweets @bombayana
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According to MSRDC, instances have been reported of motorists needlessly halting near key stretches of the connecting link, particularly around the cable-stayed bridge and tunnel sections.  Officials stressed that stopping on the expressway is strictly prohibited and increases the likelihood of accidents on a high-speed corridor.

The connecting link project, often referred to as the “missing link” on the Mumbai-Pune Expressway, was inaugurated on Maharashtra Day, May 1. 

Stopping for pictures and selfies puts other commuters at risk on this high-speed stretch. Even when the Atal Setu was inaugurated, similar warnings were sent out. 

It is time we respect infrastructure, and by that, we mean also respecting the rules that come with it. When there is a no-stopping rule, there must be a good reason to have that rule. Do not endanger lives for likes and two seconds of fame, that can turn into a lifetime of loss and deep regret.

Today, we inhabit two worlds — the physical and digital ones. Yet, at times, rare though it may be, both will not interweave and will have to remain mutually exclusive. You may take a picture from a vehicle without stopping and post it, but you cannot stop for that dream picture for the digital universe. 

Safety before selfies.

Photographs accompanying the report showed the Poinsur river choked to the point of suffocation. The flow is blocked at several points. Waste has carpeted the water, primarily garbage bags and plastic. A nauseating stench envelops the area.

In the monsoon, the gaothan floods, with water coming into residents’ homes, as whatever is left of the river rises and has no outlet.

One can see some water on the west side, but the east side of the river is only debris. Several gaothan residents who have lived there for decades recalled in our report, how they used to go fishing or swimming in the river. Women would wash clothes, dry vessels on the banks.

Today, nobody dares dip their toe in it. Once the water was so translucent and clean one could see the pebbles beneath. The water has disappeared underneath the garbage.

First, gaothan residents need to get some relief. Desilting must be done thoroughly, not shifting around mud in a cosmetic con job. 

People must move to safer areas during the monsoon as floodwaters could enter homes. There is a danger to life as people are scurrying to save themselves. 

A retaining wall needs to be built, and some flood mitigation measures are urgent and immediately necessary. Verbal assurances fall short. Those responsible need to wrap up work pre-monsoon. 
Work — not words — are needed.

I wasn’t too fussed about the Women’s Reservation Bill being defeated in the Lok Sabha after failing to secure a two-thirds majority. For the few who missed the Prime Minister’s passionate, erudite performance explaining why it failed to pass, the bill was aimed at providing 33 per cent reservation for women in Parliament and state assemblies. I wasn’t worried because this is a debate that has been going on for almost three decades now. It just felt like a temporary setback that would eventually be resolved within the next 30 years.

Another reason for my nonchalance was the belief that life has never been better for women in India. Everywhere one looks, there are signs of empowerment and success. Women smile wherever they go. They are calm, collected, safe, and happy to be in India. I don’t go by any official statistics while making these claims, but I’m sure they would concur with my observations. Statistics mean little in today’s India anyway, and I think of them as distractions that get in the way of a more optimistic picture. I believe that is also official government policy.

Don’t take my word for it though. Ask most Indian men if things are going well for Indian women, and they will agree. Consider the corporate space, for example, where almost every major firm has at least one woman in middle management. A month ago, a report by a provider of data on the capital markets stated that women now made up around 5 per cent of managing directors or chief executive officers. This may sound like a dismal figure, until one realises that this is pretty much the norm in Europe as well as the Americas, which means India is starting to look a lot like the West. In my view, that makes it a statistic worth celebrating.

Then there’s education. It may seem as if there’s a significant gender gap here too but, according to the last report published by the World Economic Forum in 2024, India’s ranking in the Global Index had slipped by just two positions to 129 out of 146 countries. This means that Indian women have it better than 17 other countries, which also counts as a win in my book. If we continue to make progress at this astonishing rate, who is to say we won’t have an educated woman in charge of India’s education ministry? If that happens, it will only be the second such occurrence since the late Sheila Kaul occupied that position.

Women also arguably feel safer than ever in today’s India, despite what data from the National Crime Records Bureau may say. According to its latest report on crime against women, there were just 4,48,211 cases registered nationwide in 2023, up marginally from the previous two years. That may sound like a lot, but the figure is probably a lot lower than crimes registered in Afghanistan, Syria, the Democratic Republic of Congo, or Somalia.

Reservations imply the need for some perceived gap to be filled; the righting of what appears to be wrong. That doesn’t seem to be the case in Parliament despite an overwhelming majority of men, because a lot of these men have been accused of crimes against women. One of the smartest things that one of our major political parties does is habilitate these alleged criminals, keeping them off the streets and making life easier for women outside. Bringing in more women means fewer seats for these troubled men, which doesn’t seem like a smart decision.

We need to do more to change how people look at women in India, for which we need to start rewriting the popular narrative. We need to stop focusing on minor issues such as gender inequality, economic dependence, wage disparities, patriarchal norms, domestic abuse, sexual harassment, a strong preference for male children, workplace harassment, poor healthcare, digital misogyny, social stigma or societal expectations, and start talking about the bigger picture.

A country that’s growing as fast as India should be worried about things like hosting a World Cup, not debating bills about whether we need more women in Parliament. It’s why I think women should start playing a more active role in helping us all propagate this message. They may not be represented in Parliament, but nothing stops them from broadcasting positive messages on social media even if they aren’t necessarily true. Perception is all and, if the Prime Minister can spend every waking hour doing this, I don’t see why ordinary Indians can’t.

When he isn’t ranting about all things Mumbai, Lindsay Pereira can be almost sweet. He can be contacted at www.lindsaypereira.com
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‘Skills are never taught, they are acquired. I can give you a camera, but can’t feed your vision. Either you capture the mystery of things or you reveal the mystery’
- Raghu Rai

Raghu Rai has left us. His legacy will remain etched in black and white. Rai began his seven-decade-long career at a time when resources were scarce, and technology was limited. Analogue shooting was a lottery, film rolls allowed for a maximum of 36 pictures, a zillion little adjustments were required to be made in a second — the understanding of light, composition choices, framing, the environment, immediate hurdles invading your view — otherwise you lost your shot. 

Rai often said that the great Frenchman, Henri Cartier Bresson, taught him how to look, although he said, “The European grammar, subtraction, clean geometry, that crucial isolated decisive moment when you clicked, were no help in Old Delhi. There you see actions within the same frame, voices over voices, a man subject that does not stay main for long.”

Raghu Rai was the eye, the ears and the soul of India. He knew the history, he breathed the politics, he loved the people, he understood the customs, he had the wanderers spirit, moving freely around the country. He once famously said, “I like being amongst my own people; I merge with them. I don’t wear stylish clothes. I have one camera with a zoom lens so I do not alarm people; no one says ‘here comes the photographer’.”

Rai knew his country, the size, the disparity, he revelled in the chaos, and how to find control in it — he strove to find the stillness within himself. He had patience, persistence, and a deep love for politics and leaders, and Prime Ministers and Presidents that led him to Indira Gandhi — she afforded him an photographic intimacy few lensman were allowed. Rai captured the Emergency, winding his way skilfully through censorship. 

Over the years, risking life and limb, he chronicled Operation Blue Star, and the enigma that was Jarnail Singh Bhindrawalle. His career was defined by documenting major conflicts — he captured the Bangladesh Liberation War, he had the measure of the 1980s Sikh separatist insurgency in Punjab. His coverage of Bhopal’s Gas Tragedy gained him worldwide recognition. And although Cartier Bresson had already inducted him into the select clique of legendary photographers called Magnum in 1972, he truly hit his stride in the ’80s.

“Please don’t forget regimes will come, and regimes will go... but what you leave behind is going to reflect for many long years.”

At the core of his practice was an insistence on closeness — to people, to moments, to truth, he said, “They say, if you’re not close enough, your photograph is not good enough. Photography is deeply immersive, and your energy has to be concentrated, then your mind body and spirit get into a rhythm and it comes in front of you as you look through your view finder.” 

Raghu Rai was an old school photographer. At all times his work in the dark room helped us see the light — they say, one picture is worth a thousand words, he had thousands of pictures that said one word: passion. Well two, passion and compassion. He once said, “Democratistion is good, but what are people doing, selfies, self love, making stupid faces- even inside temples and churches people are making faces, it’s becoming unbearable.”

Photojournalism, portraiture, political history, Rai had an eye, an eye trained for years to produce a story in the blink of an eye.

Raghu Rai’s prints will forever stay imprinted in our souls, his black and whites an endless testimony to the grey matter in his mind, the endless empathy for the unfortunates.

“Visual history is more important than making pretty and fine art photography, history is always being written and being re-written, but photo history can never be re-written,” he said.

Good night Raghu Rai, and close those eyes that never slept.

Rahul daCunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, filmmaker and traveller. Reach him at rahul.dacunha@mid-day.com

The Opposition did not just miss an opportunity. It seemed to step aside from the contest altogether. And that, more than any speech or statement, reveals its current state of disarray. 

It is worth remembering how the Maha Vikas Aghadi (MVA) was formed in 2019. It brought together parties with sharply different ideologies, united largely by a single goal — to keep the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) out of power. Even then, it was widely described as an “unnatural alliance.” Today, that description no longer sounds like political criticism; it reads like an accurate assessment. 

Instead of consolidating itself against its principal rival, the alliance now appears trapped in its own contradictions. Coalitions are tested not when they are formed but when they are required to act cohesively. On that count, the MVA seems to be faltering. Its energies appear increasingly consumed by internal equations rather than external challenges. 

The contrast with the ruling Mahayuti alliance could not have been sharper. Leaders from the BJP, including Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis and Deputy Chief Ministers Eknath Shinde and Sunetra Pawar, made their presence felt during the nomination process. They may not have shared a stage, but they projected a clear message, coordination, discipline, and control. It was a display carefully calibrated to signal authority. 

Across the aisle, the absence was equally telling. The MVA’s key faces, Uddhav Thackeray, Aaditya Thackeray, Supriya Sule, and Jayant Patil, were nowhere to be seen. Even the Congress leadership failed to register a visible presence. This wasn’t a scheduling gap; it appeared to be a political withdrawal. 

For the average citizen, one side looked organised, confident, and in command, while the other appeared disconnected, almost resigned. In a political climate where perception often travels faster than policy, this imbalance matters. And right now, perception is clearly tilting in favour of the ruling alliance. 

The MVA has been showing signs of strain for some time, with leadership pulls, competing ambitions, and visible mistrust.
 
Politics is not patient. It rewards those who show up and penalises those who hesitate. When senior leaders stay away from key moments, the message is unambiguous. For party workers on the ground, this is not just disappointing, it is demoralising. Leadership, after all, is as much about presence as it is about strategy.  

The Mahayuti, on the other hand, has done what confident alliances do: it has seized the moment. Such moments do more than secure immediate advantage; they build narrative, momentum, and credibility. In politics, these are assets that compound over time. 

There is also a broader lesson here. Alliances built primarily to keep a strong opponent out of power rarely sustain themselves unless they evolve beyond that singular objective. India’s national coalitions, from the UPA to the NDA, have both experienced phases of cohesion and strain, depending on how well their partners aligned on a larger vision. The MVA now appears to be confronting that same test. Managing internal contradictions is no longer optional; it is essential. 

The warning signs are already visible. The Congress has begun staking early claims over MLC and even Rajya Sabha seats likely to arise in 2028. Leaders from Shiv Sena (UBT) have dismissed these moves as premature. But the signal is clear; the contest within has begun well before the contest outside. 

Within party ranks, too, the impact is immediate. Workers take cues from leadership behaviour. When they sense hesitation or disunity at the top, it creates uncertainty below. Over time, this erodes organisational strength and weakens mobilisation capacity, often well before an election is fought. 

For the Opposition, this is not just a moment of setback; it is a moment of reckoning. Alliances cannot survive on arithmetic alone. They require communication, clarity, and a shared political direction. Without these, even routine political exercises begin to expose deeper fractures. 

And that may be the clearest takeaway. An alliance formed to take on a rival now appears preoccupied with itself. When internal battles begin to overshadow external ones this early, the outcome is rarely in doubt. In politics, defeat does not always arrive dramatically; more often, it begins quietly from within, through absence, hesitation, and silence.

Sanjeev Shivadekar is political editor, mid-day. He tweets @SanjeevShivadek

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Reports quoted Fadnavis as saying that the project would reduce travel time between Mumbai and Pune by around 25 to 30 minutes and improve travel efficiency on one of the state’s busiest transport corridors. Some of the improvements cited across are easing congestion, improving road safety, and making commuting smoother.

The tunnels and cable-stayed bridge are impressive, and those travelling regularly between Mumbai and Pune should benefit. Yet, while applauding all these marvels, as our politicians term them, we should also never forget our basics.

Bridges and tunnels are all very well, but what about our local roads? Are we monsoon-ready? Where are the smooth roads? Where are the walkable pavements? Where is the signage on certain roads that must have warning signs in advance for drivers? We may have all the technology in the world, but when our base, everyday roads are in poor condition, then all these marvels fly and praise for them fly in our face.

Let our leaders look at the less glamorous parts of the city, ones that may not give them social media likes or headlines. We need to set that right. While our politicians may get accolades and applause from acolytes, the common people really just need roads they can walk or drive on smoothly. Let’s get that done, and the applause will be resounding.

Cut to 2026, and the actor is facing intense trolling on social media. Why? He appeared in a Reel by a creator called Dr Vanita Ghadhage Desai, shot like an old-school music video set to the song Tere Dar Par Sanam (which is a song from one of Roy’s films itself). Why is it being mocked? Well, because it’s not aesthetic. And it’s on the handle of a not-so-fancy creator. And, because audiences feel Roy looks uninterested and bored. 

Though he shouldn’t have, Roy felt the need to defend himself after multiple reels were made mocking him. And he said, “I do my work with honesty and modesty. I have some legal matters to pay for… At least I am earning through hard work, not by mocking others.” He also highlighted the fact that he had suffered from a brain stroke.

Way to go, people. We are faced with a multitude of influencers every day who peddle and hype up everything from serums, to proteins, to luxury bags, iPhones, to fancy vacations (Coachella or Japan, anyone?) and hotels, to sneakers, and make-up, and Hyrox, and restaurants, and sun screen, and jewellery, and clothes, and innerwear, and watches, and blah blah blah, and you want to laugh at an actor just trying to earn some honest money? Do you even know how hard it is to get a decent role in a show or film these days? We now just scroll, and comment freely and meanly as we sit at home comfortably, many of us too afraid to go out and really risk anything, just because we are scared of judgment. Bhai wah!

If watching an unsuspecting lady (trying hard to be a creator) gyrate in front of an unfeeling-looking Roy in a mini music video on Instagram is cringe to you, you’d better wake up. This is what should be making you cringe today: Creators who sell everything and anything, as long as the money is good. Are you telling me every serum, every sunscreen, every shampoo, every body butter, is the best you’ve ever tried? It’s so good that your fingers can’t stop tapping on its packaging (which is adding to all the pollution in the world)? What’s cringe is everyone hyping up a phone they got for free. What’s cringe is everyone telling you to go for a vacation they went on for free. What’s cringe is everyone’s asking you to buy something you don’t need, just because they got it free, and they are getting paid to say so! This is not a review in a newspaper or magazine, where, contrary to what you think, journalists do not do “paid reviews”. What’s cringe is that influencers don’t care if you should be buying this, if you have resources to buy this, and if this is good for the world, environment or planet. These are not collaborations; these are advertisements.

If you are okay with them peddling stuff because a brand paid them, then why are you so shocked that a once-successful actor appeared in a “cringe” reel just because it paid him? 

We, as audiences, need to be more discerning in what we define as cringe or embarrassing on social media now. We need to up the game, to ask for more of the creators and influencers to whom we give so much of our time and energy. It’s time they gave us authentic, real and genuine content that matters, that’s unique, and that adds to our lives in some way, not just to sell stuff. Roy is just doing his best. The rest are taking advantage of what the system has become — where the influencer with the fanciest aesthetic and the biggest brand catches the worm. 

It’s time to introspect, and ask the right questions.

See you next time.

Ranting and raving about all that’s trending on social media, Aastha Atray Banan is an author, creator, podcaster, and the Editor of your favourite weekend read, Sunday mid-day. She posts at @aasthaatray on Instagram. 
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This is a huge tragedy; it should evoke outrage and action. At least three-fourths of the megapolis is witnessing construction work, which includes the redevelopment of buildings and rapid public infra, including some repair work. Every site needs to be secured. A safety inspection of whether it can take machines has to be done before heavy machinery is placed on that ground.

The contractor needs to have enough expertise, manpower, checks and counter checks while on the ground. There has to be a perimeter or barriers so that machinery cannot fall from flyovers, from heights or elsewhere. Traffic and people will be walking close to construction work, below it, given the crowds in this city. Now, are Mumbaikars supposed to wear helmets and full body armour while on the road?

What are these investigations that have happened after any incidents? We never hear of any findings. Now, do we see an uptick in safety or more precautions taken at different places? This city has become hazardous to walk or commute in. It is so shameful that the financial capital of India, this advanced city, sees mishaps like these, and there is no improvement or answers. 

Build-ups to young players’ debuts have always made for fascinating stories, providing rich fodder for historians just like in the case of Sachin Tendulkar, who was picked for India as a 16-year-old in 1989. In the video interview that late actor-cum-sports buff Tom Alter did with him in the 1988-89 season, Tendulkar indicated that he was up to the challenge of facing the West Indies quicks if picked for the tour of the Caribbean. But Raj Singh Dungarpur & Co decided to leave him out and I remember the then chief selector telling me many years later that he was worried about how the teenaged Tendulkar would cope without seeing his parents on a two-month tour, hence the decision.

Those who mattered had no doubts over his talent and ability. “I think Tendulkar must remain as the most potential player in our lifetime. I have never seen anyone play as well as him,” Raj Singh was quoted as saying in Sportsworld magazine in March 1989.

Tendulkar was finally picked for the 1989-90 tour of Pakistan. When the selection committee was divided over Tendulkar’s inclusion, senior selector Naren Tamhane’s words sealed the deal at the selection meeting: “Sachin Tendulkar never fails.” 

Age is a big factor when it comes to selecting a young player. Even the Mumbai selectors were divided over whether they should pick Tendulkar in 1988-89. Milind Rege, the late Mumbai captain and selector revealed in Sportsweek magazine as to how Tendulkar made the cut as a 15-year-old: “In difficult conditions of the Kanga League [for CCI], Sachin played like a grown-up man. On a drying track, Sachin was right on top of the ball. Even the seniors in the team fell by way of class. We decided to straightaway include Sachin in the Bombay Ranji Trophy XI. Every member in the team was delighted with the way Sachin batted [in the nets]. In fact he was the only one to drive off the front foot to [Pradeep] Kasliwal, [Anirudh] Kher and [Anoop] Sabnis who worked no indecent pace as the Wankhede practice wickets are fairly nippy.”

Back to Sooryavanshi. The other day, 2016 T20 World Cup winner-turned-pundit Carlos Brathwaite recommended that Sooryavanshi be introduced to international cricket like the West Indies did to Brian Lara, who incidentally is Sooryavanshi’s idol. “If you look at how West Indies handled Brian Lara… he was a generational talent, everyone knew. So what did West Indies do? They put him in the mix with Viv Richards and what not, but he didn’t play [international cricket]. 

That was a different time with loads of tour games, and he cut his teeth with the senior players without having made his debut. And then we know how his career went once he debuted,” Brathwaite said on ESPNcricinfo’s TimeOut show.

The West Indies selectors picked Lara in the Test squad for the third Test against India in the 1988-89 series at Trinidad. He was made 12th man and didn’t get a look in that season. The following year, England came touring and Lara smashed 134 for the President’s XI against them. That innings got him a recall to the West Indies squad. Again, he didn’t make the XI in a side packed with stars. Lara was clearly losing patience. In Beating the Field, his 1995 autobiography, he wrote: “I was serving a long apprenticeship and it was becoming very frustrating.” Lara, who finally made his debut in the third Test of the 1990-91 series at Lahore, opined that the West Indies selectors were “not inclined for making too many changes.”

Even Garry Sobers, whose world record score of 365 was surpassed by Lara in 1993-94, was at the receiving end of some selectorial reluctance in 1953 despite his talent. Sobers made his first-class debut for Barbados in a tour game for the visiting Indian team. He had a match haul of seven wickets and in Garry Sobers — An Autobiography, he said that there was talk that he would be included in the Test squad to face the Indians in the fifth and final Test at Kingston. But the selectors opted for local man Alf Scott when spin ace Sonny Ramadhin was injured. Sobers reckoned they chose Scott because the Board didn’t want to spend on his Barbados to Kingston air fare. Sobers eventually was capped the following year.

And while we wait with bated breath for opening batsman Sooryavanshi to wear that senior India cap, I’m moved to reproduce the lines in the 1970s British television sitcom, Are You Being Served? uttered by to-be-hired Mr Goldberg in praise of his future colleague and head of the men’s department Mr Humphries: “So high up, so young...,” to which Mr Humphries replies, “So far, so good.”

mid-day’s Deputy Editor Clayton Murzello is a purist with an open stance. He tweets @ClaytonMurzello 

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A man in Odisha’s Keonjhar district walked three kilometres under the scorching sun, carrying his dead sister’s skeletal remains on his shoulder to a bank in an attempt to retrieve R19,300 from her account, reports stated.

His sister held an account at a bank. She died two months ago. Her husband and only child died earlier, leaving her brother as her sole surviving relative.

When this man approached the bank to withdraw the  Rs 19,300 remaining balance in his sister’s account, the bank manager refused, saying either the account holder must be present or he must furnish legal heir documents.

This tribal man with no education had no death certificate or succession papers and returned helpless. He then dug out his sister’s remains, wrapped the skeleton in cloth, and walked to the bank in blazing heat.

This sight was met with anger and outrage. While bank rules are rules, there should have been some kind of solution, when it was obvious that this uneducated man had no papers.

The bank could have directed staffers to go to his residence and verify the claims about his sister. They could have taken the headman or elders, who often take decisions in village units, into confidence and cross-checked with them. 

Compassion and common sense should have taken over here.   

This is a welcome effort to bring a piece of the city, often inaccessible to the public on the radar. A number of programmes are planned for this space, so that the Docks can have the public coming in to view them, while also bringing the area itself into public consciousness.

For years, people have walked past the space, glanced at the clock tower, and bought fish in the mornings, but have hardly seen the quarters next to the clock tower, or even wondered about the architectural marvel that it is. This should become a visibility spot and a tourist destination.

The most important message, though, is that it should be kept clean. Even the Dock’s surroundings should be sanitised. It is unfortunate that it takes special programmes to bring about awareness of basic hygiene, but that is how it is. Cleanliness at all these public sites should become part of daily living and should not require special attention or effort. Keeping the city, including our water bodies, clean should be as natural as a daily routine. More dustbins, signage, awareness, community engagement, enforcement, and local leadership response are some of the keys in ensuring that cleanliness is sustained and not a one-off effort.