Ahmedabad is layers of multi hued kites each soaring in the air with different stories of past. So many different colors in the sky mirroring ever so many facets of the city. Some of the, aromas, colors, people and happenings no longer there, yet are so imbibed that the sense of magic has not really gone.
Gaze up at the colors in the air and one is reminded of the great balloon like tent of the circus; akin to a satellite from space taking its moorings on the dry river bed. As a child I remember the excitement of watching from the bridge as the skeletal frames of the big tents magically spouted out of the sands of the Sabarmati. Like the magic castles of the fairytales, I used to always wonder that if I turned my eyes away for an instant, the edifice will just sink away and appear somewhere else entirely. As child, I used to insist driving down Nehru Bridge at nights just to see this magnificent psychedelic city of moving lights and visions skirting the girders of Ellis Bridge. Then would come the great day when you drove right up to the dry river bed with an imposing metal structure of Ellis Bridge above you and were immediately exposed to a completely different world. As one stepped out and walked to the big tent feeling the sand under ones feet, one was assailed by the strangest of smells, whiffs of smoke and the aromas of a place so foreign and alien, that you wanted o hug the first parent next to you and the same time run and be part of the great adventure. Elephants, camels, horses, lions, tigers, dogs and walruses, performers in various modes of transformation all coveting in languages strange and exotic.
Such are the memories which assail me now, as I probably looked away for an instance and this childhood image was gone. Driving down Ashram Road at night in search of similar colorful memories, memories of a road replete with cinema halls each with its loyal audience. The theater Nataraj while playing host to classic English cinema had the only softy ice cream machine thus enhancing the entire experience. People congregated from all over considering the amount of cinema halls on the road; this was no multiplex, it was more like a multi street. As one drives past today the names roll like ghost images, Deepali, Shiv, Shree, Ajanta, Elora, and may be some more. It was a great stretch of road with imposing film posters done in oils, each having the signature of the painter intricately disguised within the action. Though Deepali cinema has involved into a multiplex, Citigold, the rest have vanished into the sand of concretized time. With the passing of time film poster painters gradually vanished as other possibilities took over. With their demise the theaters soon followed soot in sympathy of the extinction of an urban art form, which preceded which can form the basis of an interesting debate.
Across the street from the Nataraj ice cream shop was Delight, a name which still exists today. It used to be a shop which advertised Coca- Cola, served at the perfect temperature. People gathered there took their Coke bottles and move towards rhythm house, a basement record shop where Tempton played the most mind blowing protest music. This made every one ready to go up to Nataraj and watch Vietnam News reels. This was of course the early seventies; the city of Ahmedabad was lot different then; better or worse is a matter of personal opinion. At the end of the last show late at night there was always the news to the rescue. Times of India, with its maska ban, omelets and chai. The aroma of which mingled with the fresh smells of a hot newspaper. Those were the days when the newspaper press was on the ground floor of the existing office building. As the façade was glass you could see the new being printed while sipping masala chai.
In sharp contrast was Chiman Giddhar Road, C.G.Road! A street of stately large mansions with vast garden spaces. There was always a bungalow and it still is; a bungalow painted in geru (brick red). It soon became a postal landmark thus forcing the owners never to change the color. ‘Lal Bungla’ is what it is called, possibly the only old landmark that remains on that road. The Navrangpura Municipal Market was a small shopping center and not the major market that it is today. At some point glass and steel replaced the green, temperatures increased as congestion grew.
Now driving across Ellis Bridge, one often feels that one had indeed looked away and the city has changed. Yet all things must pass and if you only look, you can hear music wafting the through the air, the aroma of good tea, and the same warmth in the people. The traffic is noisy, there are more cars, and the footpaths are as colorful as ever. C.G.Road is one vast never ending riot of colors with shopkeepers and people buying and selling. So many happy people, so many colors a mirror image of the kites in the equinox sky!
Published: Ahmedabad Mirror
Gaze up at the colors in the air and one is reminded of the great balloon like tent of the circus; akin to a satellite from space taking its moorings on the dry river bed. As a child I remember the excitement of watching from the bridge as the skeletal frames of the big tents magically spouted out of the sands of the Sabarmati. Like the magic castles of the fairytales, I used to always wonder that if I turned my eyes away for an instant, the edifice will just sink away and appear somewhere else entirely. As child, I used to insist driving down Nehru Bridge at nights just to see this magnificent psychedelic city of moving lights and visions skirting the girders of Ellis Bridge. Then would come the great day when you drove right up to the dry river bed with an imposing metal structure of Ellis Bridge above you and were immediately exposed to a completely different world. As one stepped out and walked to the big tent feeling the sand under ones feet, one was assailed by the strangest of smells, whiffs of smoke and the aromas of a place so foreign and alien, that you wanted o hug the first parent next to you and the same time run and be part of the great adventure. Elephants, camels, horses, lions, tigers, dogs and walruses, performers in various modes of transformation all coveting in languages strange and exotic.
Such are the memories which assail me now, as I probably looked away for an instance and this childhood image was gone. Driving down Ashram Road at night in search of similar colorful memories, memories of a road replete with cinema halls each with its loyal audience. The theater Nataraj while playing host to classic English cinema had the only softy ice cream machine thus enhancing the entire experience. People congregated from all over considering the amount of cinema halls on the road; this was no multiplex, it was more like a multi street. As one drives past today the names roll like ghost images, Deepali, Shiv, Shree, Ajanta, Elora, and may be some more. It was a great stretch of road with imposing film posters done in oils, each having the signature of the painter intricately disguised within the action. Though Deepali cinema has involved into a multiplex, Citigold, the rest have vanished into the sand of concretized time. With the passing of time film poster painters gradually vanished as other possibilities took over. With their demise the theaters soon followed soot in sympathy of the extinction of an urban art form, which preceded which can form the basis of an interesting debate.
Across the street from the Nataraj ice cream shop was Delight, a name which still exists today. It used to be a shop which advertised Coca- Cola, served at the perfect temperature. People gathered there took their Coke bottles and move towards rhythm house, a basement record shop where Tempton played the most mind blowing protest music. This made every one ready to go up to Nataraj and watch Vietnam News reels. This was of course the early seventies; the city of Ahmedabad was lot different then; better or worse is a matter of personal opinion. At the end of the last show late at night there was always the news to the rescue. Times of India, with its maska ban, omelets and chai. The aroma of which mingled with the fresh smells of a hot newspaper. Those were the days when the newspaper press was on the ground floor of the existing office building. As the façade was glass you could see the new being printed while sipping masala chai.
In sharp contrast was Chiman Giddhar Road, C.G.Road! A street of stately large mansions with vast garden spaces. There was always a bungalow and it still is; a bungalow painted in geru (brick red). It soon became a postal landmark thus forcing the owners never to change the color. ‘Lal Bungla’ is what it is called, possibly the only old landmark that remains on that road. The Navrangpura Municipal Market was a small shopping center and not the major market that it is today. At some point glass and steel replaced the green, temperatures increased as congestion grew.
Now driving across Ellis Bridge, one often feels that one had indeed looked away and the city has changed. Yet all things must pass and if you only look, you can hear music wafting the through the air, the aroma of good tea, and the same warmth in the people. The traffic is noisy, there are more cars, and the footpaths are as colorful as ever. C.G.Road is one vast never ending riot of colors with shopkeepers and people buying and selling. So many happy people, so many colors a mirror image of the kites in the equinox sky!
Published: Ahmedabad Mirror
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