Introduction

I think of the evolution of the city in which I was born, Mumbai. When I was born in 1966, it was called Bombay. I grew up in Bombay, living there from 1966 to 1985, before moving to the New York area, where I have lived ever since.

But what do I mean by the evolution of the city? Am I talking about the shift from "Bombay" to "Mumbai"? No, those are just names. The transformation is far more profound. Why is it that when I say “Mumbai,” people born in the 1940s and 1950s feel a chill run down their backs? For them, the city will always be "Bombay," a name that encapsulates an era, a culture, and a rhythm of life that feels worlds apart from today.

Now, living thousands of miles away, I often think about how the city has changed. Mumbai, with its towering skyscrapers and bustling energy, is a city of rapid development and ambition. But to me—and to so many others—it is also a city of memories. Every street, building, and corner of Bombay holds a story, one that shaped who we are today.

Sheila Mahal: A Palace of Memories

I grew up in a building called Sheila Mahal. "Mahal" means palace in Hindi. It was a five-story building, and our flat was on the topmost floor. From our balcony, we could see for miles—because believe it or not, a five-story building was taller than most in our area at the time. Four stories were the norm. Perhaps that’s why our building was named Mahal. It felt grand, almost regal. We worked hard to maintain that status, but growing up in Sheila Mahal also meant living with its quirks.

Our elevator, for instance, had a mind of its own and barely worked. The water pump on the ground floor often stopped at the worst moments, leaving us to haul five-gallon buckets of water up the side of the building. Looking back, those challenges feel less like inconveniences and more like life lessons.

Through it all, the residents of Sheila Mahal grew close, like an extended family. We played together, worked together, and built friendships that stood the test of time. Today, none of us live there anymore, but we stay connected through a WhatsApp group aptly named “Vibrant Sheila Mahal.” It’s a thread that ties us together, a reminder of the memories and bonds that make Sheila Mahal more than just a building—it was, and remains, a home.

Family Legacy: Unearthing the Past

Before my father passed away, he began documenting the history of our family in two notebooks. When I finally read his notes, I was amazed. My father had traced our lineage back ten generations, meticulously recording the names of our forefathers. For the more recent generations, he wrote detailed paragraphs, describing their siblings, professions, and significant moments in their lives.

When I shared this treasure trove of information with my uncles, aunts, cousins, and extended family, it sparked an unexpected chain reaction. Conversations began to flow, and an astonishing amount of information surfaced. I learned, for instance, that my grandmother had siblings I’d never heard about while growing up—though my elder brother had met them.

This experience was a revelation. It showed me how much more I could learn about my roots—and about Mumbai—by engaging in conversations with those who lived before me. Their memories and stories are invaluable, offering a window into a past that shaped not just our family, but the city itself.

Bombay Before I Was Born

Before I was born, Nariman Point—the hub of commercial activity in South Bombay—did not exist. The area was simply part of the Arabian Sea. It was during the tenure of Chief Minister, Vasantrao P. Naik, that the project to reclaim land and construct office buildings in this area gained momentum. These efforts transformed Nariman Point into the bustling commercial center it is today.

Nariman Point is named after Khurshed Framji Nariman, a Parsi freedom fighter who exposed scandals in the reclamation project during its inception.  From the airy balcony of our home, I could see the iconic buildings that defined this area, such as the Air India Building and the Oberoi Sheraton, standing tall in the distance. Every morning, while sipping hot tea prepared by my mother and savoring a delicious Sindhi-English breakfast of koki and half-fried eggs, I would gaze out at this evolving cityscape.

Closer to home, the historic Rajabai Clock Tower was visible from our balcony. It served as my timekeeper—I didn’t wear a wristwatch then. My elders often spoke of Nariman Point before the reclamation, recounting tales of a beach and a bathhouse that once stood there, now replaced by concrete and glass. These stories painted a vivid picture of a Bombay that felt worlds apart from the Mumbai I grew up in.

Bombay While I Was Growing Up

By the 1970s, Bombay had transformed into a more vibrant and energetic city. Nariman Point was 80 percent developed, with many industries and financial institutions operating out of the office buildings there. It was a time of cultural and economic growth—a time when Bollywood saw the rise of Amitabh Bachchan, a superstar who defined an era of Indian cinema.

The Taj Mahal Palace Hotel, built in 1902, stood as a testament to Bombay’s grandeur, while the Taj Tower, added in 1973, symbolized the city’s modernization. Observing the architecture of these two buildings reveals the evolution of Bombay between the early 20th century and the post-independence years. In recent years, I noted with pride that one of the Taj Group’s iconic properties, The Pierre in Midtown Manhattan, now stands as a symbol of Bombay’s global reach.

Reference: Parsi Times