Fiona Fernandez: 'Look! That's a Bandraite in her natural habitat'

"I couldn't imagine that we were actually packaged as part of a walk," exclaimed a fifty-something teacher to her friend, as they sipped on tea at the next table in a non-fussy eatery in Bandra. Curious on hearing the word ‘walk', yours truly's antennae automatically tuned in to the rest of the conversation.

"And you know what, Cheryl...?" the agitated teacher continued, "This was on Christmas Day. Roger and I were in the verandah, having our evening tea with the girls, when I noticed a small group pass by, throwing us long glances. They seemed decent but it felt odd; as if we were a part of an exhibit in a museum. Our neighbour, Malcolm told us later that the entire road was part of some Christmas day walk in Bandra organised by a travel group. Thank goodness Nana wasn't around to see this. She would've thrown a fit and shooed them all away!" she chuckled, calming down somewhat.

The friend sighed, and replied, "Well, you know, Brenda…I've heard about such walks taking place on even our Chapel Road" to which Brenda remarked, "Arre baba, but why would someone pay money to look at these parts? Don't people object especially if they are in the middle of their daily business? Is this what Bandra will become - a showcase for outsiders to see and visit?"

Their conversation took me back to a walk from nearly eight years ago. It was in Dharavi - where a sea of humanity and enterprise co-exist with inexplicable ease. This was the pre-Slumdog Millionaire era. Their world was untouched, and most residents were left to themselves. Under the guise of a teacher from Kolkata, I was hoping to figure the goings-on of such trips that were modelled on the globally accepted ‘slum tourism' phenomena. Soon enough the group -comprising mostly of firang photographers, NGO workers and Elizabeth Gilbert-types, searching for their soul in ‘Indiyeaah' - began to worm its way through the congested neighbourhood.

In no time, the intentions of the operator became clear. India is a charity case. Little or no emphasis was given to real problems, challenges and success stories. Snot-faced kids playing cricket near a dump got maximum coverage. Most residents en route didn't like this invasion of privacy. At one stop, where women were drying papads, a disgruntled Maharashtrian woman dismissed the guide crudely to never bring a group to the area. Apparently, on a previous trip, a photograph by a tourist reached the wrong hands, and their unit had to be shuttered. "Don't use us to make your money," she yelled back, as the guide tried to cool tempers and downplay the altercation in front of the group. It made us squirm.

While it's great that travel groups are scouting the city to create engaging and inclusive walks that involve a human connect, utmost care needs to be taken to ensure sensibilities are respected at all costs. Don't get us wrong. We aren't painting everyone with the same brush. But overhearing the two Bandraites at that café left a bad taste. And got us thinking too. Such walks are a great idea, but it also is a new phenomenon for the local who happens to be the subject. Organisers ought to not lose sight of taking them into confidence. It will end up being a win-win situation, eventually; especially in a city where heritage - tangible and otherwise - is a fast fading phenomenon.

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