New tales of the tiles

Mulla, Golvala, Delna Sanghvi and Persis Billimoria at the board last week. Pics/Delna Sanghvi & Ashish Raje

Five brief words triggered this column. "Before it was a ‘thing'," wrote my friend Delna Sanghvi, under a charming mid-1980s display picture on her phone. It showed her mother around a mahjong table with friends. What is exceptional is the fact that they still sit intently at the game they gathered around 45 years ago.

They are among the city's mahjong players from the 1970s. Taking genuine delight in the game before it became the fad wrapped in frenzy that it is presently. Ahead of meeting three such groups bonding "over chai and magic tiles", as one of them puts it, I explore the trajectory of the game.

One source is the book, Mumbai Style Mahjongg, by Sushila Singh, who originally taught and popularised it in the city. A page here is tellingly titled "Mahjong should be played respectfully, with courtesy and etiquette". While many feel the game is 75 per cent luck and 25 per cent skill, Singh says, "Even with poor basic tiles, you can play with rigorous control, preventing others from winning."

The Chinese inventor of the game, Chen Yumen (sometimes called Zheng Yao and Yanglou) from Ningbo, was a third-ranked administrative official who played paper cards for entertainment. He restructured these in 1864 - the arrival of mahjong.

Mao banned the game as a bourgeois pastime like gambling, symbolising capitalist corruption. Players, especially the 20th-century Chinese elite, conducted clandestine games. That was when the Japanese took up mahjong seriously. The ban in China lifted at the end of the Cultural Revolution and mahjong experienced a resurgence from the 1970s.

Mid-1980s photo of Mehroo Golvala, Persis Billimoria, Nergish Mulla, Purviz Billimoria, and Amina Merchant playing

While Joseph Park Babcock is largely credited for introducing the game to the United States in the 1920s, Chinese Americans were already playing it in the 1800s. Babcock trademarked the spelling Mah-jongg, incorporating a hyphen and extra "g" in it.

How did a street game from the pavements of Peking, Shanghai, and Chengdu reach Bombay, Pune, Delhi, and Chennai? Mahjong's Indian antecedents are colonial; the British Army brought it to cantonment towns. In Pune, Rekha Krishan is a prominent old hand at the game, teaching this version.

A veteran teacher in Mumbai, Nita Kapadia learnt the game from Army wives playing it with strict rules in Aurangabad. She says, "We know the history and beauty and culture of the game. Every tile has significance. It has unfortunately acquired FOMO status. Poker parties are replaced by mahjong parties." This extends to suburbs from Bandra and Khar till Juhu's filmi crowd.

A century-old mahjong set

Play everywhere seems geared towards competitive tournaments, rankings, and winning trophies. Clubs hold eliminations, corralling members into activity rooms. A far cry from days of leisurely playing on lawns or verandahs.

Non-club members meet in cafes across the city. Besides structured classes at the Willingdon Club, Kapadia and her teachers welcome non-club members to the game at the RTI on Hughes Road, with learners coming in from Chembur and Borivli and more northern suburbs.

Gita Patel was another teacher several players fondly remember. She designed the "Mahjongita card" with Kapadia and other teachers. Part of the South Wind Big Cards collection, this keeps alive its creator's legacy.

Adopting a tempered teaching approach, Neepa Joshipura says, "Never one for board games, I almost excused myself from my first class. But as I fell in love with the game, enjoyment turned me from student to teacher. Mahjong has taken off with all generations. School kids to grandparents learn and play together. My teaching isn't about winning but about patience, strategy, connections. There's joy in watching families and strangers find their rhythm over the tiles."

‘Why get tense or aggressive?'

Possibly the oldest group at play, Nergish Mulla, Purviz Billimoria, Persis Billimoria, Mehroo Golvala and Amina Merchant were casually taught by a friend at the PVM Gymkhana. Having huddled happily around the board since the 1970s, three of them, aged from 80 to 90, are still at it.

Gai Sachdev, Maleka Doctor, Navaz Dastur and Reshma Sanghi at Sachdev's table. Pic/Shadab Khan

"We pick and discard tiles slowly, chatting or teasing each other all the time," says Mulla. "With mahjong not relying on one particular partner, we help each other throughout."

They have carried the game to picnic venues and public parks. "Young enough then to sit on grass, we've gone playing from Hanging Gardens and Powai Lake to Matheran," laughs Persis Billimoria. "Curious passers-by peered over garden hedges, wondering what we were up to," recalls Mulla.

"Our sons joined us in Matheran. Otherwise, it's mainly a women's game in India," says Golvala. "In China, Hong Kong and Singapore, men play very fast games in back rooms of shops."

The game is a collective passion with the Golvalas - every child and grandchild in the family is bequeathed a mahjong board. Admiring a vintage set belonging to Golvala's mother-in-law, I hear her say, "This is a game of leisure. Why get tense or aggressive?"

‘It's a game, not a war!'

Penny Desai, Valerie Baliwalla, Rachel Bhot, Tehmi Morris, Manjula Engineer and Mandy Patker follow the Mumbai mahjong style introduced by Sushila Singh and have played since 2007.

"Mahjong teaches logical thinking, and builds give and take," says Bhot. "Besides the mental exercise and challenge of winning with tiles dealt, there's constant laughter." Patker adds, "The game enhances cognitive ability and thinking on our feet but what makes the most difference is that we're good friends."

Baliwalla says, "Though stimulating and demanding concentration, it's a definite mood booster. At a friendly table you leave your stress behind. Playing with veterans [pre-2010] I'm still learning fresh ‘tricks'." Critical of the scenario today, Engineer says, "Bridge players - a minority at clubs now - actually request noisy mahjong tables near them to not shout."

The group enjoys not playing with money. "We don't get worked up about rules or impose penalties. It's a game, not a war!" quips Desai. "People learn at great expense. We'll keep playing for fun."

‘We play at ease'

Gai Sachdev, Navaz Dastur, Reshma Sanghi and Maleka Doctor have variously learnt from Gita Patel and Nita Kapadia.

"The game has changed. But not all of us need to sit with people who insist on disqualification when you simply touch a wrong card," says Sachdev. To float the game beyond Bombay shores, she plans to facilitate it in Ten94, her lifestyle store in Alibaug.

Manjula Engineer, Penny Desai, Mandy Patker, Rachel Bhot and Valerie Baliwalla in Desai's home. Pic/Shadab Khan

Unlike bridge, dependent on partner communication, mahjong makes participants masters of their own fate. "We play at ease," says Sachdev.

"And that's why I moved here from bridge," says Sanghi, as she quietly scores, mere minutes after the quartet settles at the board.

"Mahjong lets you meet new people," reasons Doctor. "Gai and I live in the same lane but only met over mahjong."

Dastur finds that some degree of regulations reduces argumentative behaviour - "Given the volume of players, there need to be standard directions or it gets chaotic. Instead of variations between clubs, more table rules must apply."

‘It is a lost serenity'
Valerie Baliwalla views the change in the game

"Not so long ago were afternoons of relaxation and camaraderie. Of whispering bamboos, pearly tablecloths, crackling conversations. Tables were set with wooden racks, bone counters meticulously counted, placed in the right compartments. The hostess produced her box of 144 precious tiles inherited from the generation before her.

There was the tinkling of upturned trays. Hands shuffled tiles, arranging neat rows in front of racks for a slow-paced play of the beautiful game the Far East gave the world, along with delicate steamed dumplings and fragrant jasmine tea. It began with tiles picked from the dragon's mouth and flowers displayed. As they reached the dragon's tail, soft voices called for pungs and chows… and the final triumphant ‘Mahjong' declared by the winner.

The game has undergone a marked change. A mega explosion of new players profoundly affects it. Teaching is get-rich-quick business. Where teachers devoted their time with patience and pleasure, it's now the instant pot noodle to fill pockets.It is a lost serenity. No longer the ‘twittering of sparrows' [the literal translation of ‘mahjong'], this is a cacophony of rules, penalties and ‘my way or the high way'."

‘I prefer quality over quantity'
Sushila Singh, who pioneered mahjong in the city, explains its evolution

"With great hype surrounding mahjong, it is a money-making machine. My beloved game is now with the chatterati-glitterati. I'm proud to always teach it free of charge.

Growing up in Darjeeling where it rains heavily, I was no stranger to indoor games. My parents had a mahjong set but never played. Coming to Bombay, I watched Willingdon Club ladies play. Yet, nobody taught it. Researching on the Internet, I discovered Tom Sloper [author of The Red Dragon & The West Wind: The Winning guide to Official Chinese & American Mah-Jongg] had the best website. He became my lifeline, patiently answering questions via email. My second guru, Scott Miller [who wrote Mahjong from A to Zhu], helped formulate international rules.

My game highlights Classical Chinese/Western Classical models. Of its four rounds - East, South, West, North - few go for my favourite, the South round, claiming it's too difficult. I'm old-school, preferring quality over quantity. Players today are ignorant about the spirit of the game, the philosophy and cosmology behind it. May the Mahjong journey guide us to the harmonious elements and wisdom of the East."

Author-publisher Meher Marfatia writes fortnightly on everything that makes her love Mumbai and adore Bombay. You can reach her at meher.marfatia@mid-day.com/www.meher marfatia.com