With Flora Fountain back in the limelight after her restoration she and Sir Pheroze put things into perspective especially with the citys newfound love affair to erect statues and memorials
It was a little after midnight. Sir PM made his way over the redone (and unrecognisable) DN Road, doing his best to ignore the visual degradation of his fave stretch en route. He was trying his luck once again, to catch up with his old friend and walking companion, Lady Flora.
It was three days since her restored avatar had been thrown open to the public in all its original glory. But he wasn't exactly thrilled that he was unable to share his congratulations in person. She had become the talk of the town, after all. From politicians to tourists, conservationists and Bombaywallahs, she was now the most photographed landmark in all of SoBo. Column space in newspapers and social media posts were filled with mentions of her stunning comeback; she had even caused a buzz on Instagram, according to gargoyle's reports of commuter gupshup from his vantage spot inside the grand railway terminus.
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"I hope she has the time," Sir PM muttered under his breath; he was a little out of breath, actually. All the climbing over Metro work barricades and detours along the way had tired him. "Lady Flora, psst…I am right here. Can you see me?" he waved frantically, from below. Today, he was able to soak in the extent of the makeover in all its stunning grandeur. He had seen it all - from the neglect and weather and man-made damage to its current transformation - each time he'd come by before the two would set out for their midnight strolls. "She looks divine; and how wonderful that conservation architect Vikas Dilawari and his team managed to retain her vintage charm," he remarked. He made it his business to be in the know about his friend's upkeep, thanks to a little birdie from his old office inside the BMC building.
"Ah, Pheroze, there you are. Why do you look like you're in a trance?" asked Lady Flora, waving back at her friend. "I've been so busy these days that I haven't managed to make time for our walks too. You'll forgive me now, won't you?" she pleaded. Sir PM already had. He couldn't stop looking at the remarkable makeover.
"It's been nearly a decade, Pheroze; can you imagine!" she shrieked. "After they decided I needed a makeover, do you remember the countless struggles? The 'missing' files inside the BMC, the many committees, funding issues, and god knows, how many reports that had to be submitted and re-submitted. I was beginning to give up hope.
And then last year, when things finally sped up, we faced another round of hurdles. It's more relief than anything else, you know," she said. It's a terrific effort, Lady," prodded Sir PM. "It is a Herculean one, Pheroze. Day in and out, I'd see how these labourers and specialists toiled away under the city's unforgiving weather with precision to ensure the Portland stone was restored to its original beauty. See, every crack and broken joint has been preserved in such an aesthetically sensitive manner," she pointed out, while giving him a personalised tour.
All of a sudden, her voice lowered, "It pains me though, when I see the speed with which other statue and memorial projects around me in this city have been given the nod, backed by big, fat grants and other benefits. I've seen so much during my long wait. No glitches, no financial hiccups and certainly, no neglect. I can look back and safely call this a miracle," she summed, holding back her tears. Sir PM quickly handed out his crisp, white handkerchief. She was right. Despite her day in the sun, the reality that was around her was a tad tough to swallow. And the road ahead will be a challenging one, but he dared not say a word, least of all today.
"We are lucky to have you back," he smiled at his friend, diverting the subject. "Look around you, Lady Flora. You are the centrepiece of this city; you are an integral part of its origins, and every self-respecting Bombaywallah worth his bun maska and bombil, will vouch for you." She threw an affectionate glance back at Sir PM. The Bombay she knew would always stand by her, she consoled herself. As if reading her mind, Sir PM assured, "It will be fine, trust me."
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 Send your feedback to mailbag@mid-day.com
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