Three Black Spots

See you in the Taj Lobby at 9.15

Watching the Taj covered in smoke and flames, the rattattat of AK machine guns, and the explosions of assorted armaments, I have been hit by waves of sadness.

The Taj is Bombay at its best. We all have memories, first or second hand of good times at the Taj. Sorab - a talented theatre person agreed’ My parents got married there, and that’s where I had my Navjot’.  

Golden fried prawns at the Golden Dragon, fish and chips at the Shamiana, Cafe Viennoise at the Sea Lounge where you can dawdle for hours on end and no one will hustle you, Double shots of Single Malt at the Harbour Bar, the purple drapes and sea shell tables at the old Rendezvous with ‘crooners’ at the mike and Lobster Thermidor on the shell dripping with Remoulade sauce, the impeccable Camembert Dariole and Cajun Pomfret at the Zodiac Grill, Non Veg thalis at the Tanjore, Club sandwiches by the poolside with chilled Kingfisher beer, the Christmas lunch at the Ballroom, chocolate eclairs birthday cakes and Christmas pudding from the Patisserie, tables groaning with food at assorted buffets - weddings, sales events, press conferences, Rotary lunches.

Waiters who take pleasure in remembering your name and favourite drink, and always solicitously ask ‘ Sir, how is baby?’ Feigning surprise at being told that baby now has two babies of her own, and is a lawyer. Turbanned doormen, who had their own moment of defiance after Operation Blue Star and greeted every guest with Sat Sri Akal, and whose mission is to make sure that your car is paged and ready to go as they see you coming.

After we got Yoda, we made sure that the Taj turned pet friendly and welcomed him into every restaurant and function area - it helped that we were hosting a massive conference and had taken over huge chunks of the Taj and the President.

It’s always fun to scope out the ‘baghna’ parties at the Sea Lounge. The girls’ family on one side, the boys’ family on the other, the girl who was being ‘baghoed’ is easy to spot, but the trick was to ’get’ the boy buried among the generic males, and to do it before the supplementary characters all faded away and left the couple alone to discover each other. 

The Taj is not just for the rich. How many people we know who have plucked up the courage to go in there, order a cup of coffee or a beer at the Shamiana, and immersed themselves in the experience. We all have tales of being ‘kadka’ and carefully ordering from the menu, making the calculations on tax and tip. Walking into the Taj itself was the treat, and the rest icing on the cake.

The Taj has moved with the times, sometimes not always for the better. The exquisite Menage a Trois with its drop dead views of Bombay harbour , and small bite food that would give Joel Robuchon’s Atelier a run for its money , is now the deserted Souk with dispirited staff offering up tired Lebanese food. The Harbour Bar - the original watering hole with sofas that seemed to have been cured in cigar smoke - they could have shot Casablanca there, now has functional furniture and TV sets during the cricket season. ‘Shaantum Paapam’. The Rendezvous is a generic banqueting space-when it should be swinging to the strains of Big Band Sound. Remember I am a geezer who’s taking a nearly 40 year view, and I insist on my nostalgia and memories.

The Taj will be whole again. Ratan Tata and all of us Bombayites will make it so. And the day it’s open for local business, I will SMS all my friends and tell them ‘ See you in the Lobby at 9.15′. Mina and I’ll be there with Yoda and heaven help any yokel who tries to enforce a no-dog policy.