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The upscale hillock, home to Mumbai’s ultra elite of today, was largely a dense forest till the end of the 18th century with hyenas and jackals among its privileged inhabitants. During the Shilahara regime spanning the 8th to 10th centuries (post the downfall of Rashtrakuta empire and before the advent of the Chalukya reign), Lakshman Prabhu, a minister of Silhara Dynasty built the Walkeshwar temple and the Banganga Tank on the hill’s western fringes. These holy structures brought human settlement to the region.
Sometime in 1800, the Duke of Wellington is believed to have stayed at Surrey Cottage on the slope of the hummock, but that was a bold and sweet exception in an otherwise deserted place. It was only after Bombay Governor Mountstuart Elphinstone built his bungalow sometime between 1819 and 1827 that the fortunes of this place gradually underwent a dramatic reversal. It eventually became a hub of affluence and influence, especially after 1883 when the government house was shifted from Parel to the hillock following an outbreak of cholera which claimed the life of Governor Fergusson’s wife. The site offered a panoramic view of the back bay, and the weather was generally found pleasant.
It is also believed that much earlier, the devastating fire of 1803 in the Fort area also triggered a string of relocations to this place, so did the demolition of the Bombay Fort in 1864, much later. The 1826 census reports 2,000 inhabitants (including 59 English, 44 Portuguese, 119 Parsis, and the rest Hindus.) It is interesting to note that Douglas Jardine, the English cricketer of ‘Bodyline’ fame, was born at Malabar Hill in 1900.
The name 'Malabar Hill' has its name rooted in piracy, after an enigmatic mix of pirates of different nationalities, as also natives from different states of India, who invaded the Mumbai shoreline at different times during the seventeenth century. The term ‘Malabar’ is often wrongfully attributed to Kerala’s Malabar coast leading to the sweeping generalization that the Marakkars of South Malabar were the only pirates in question. Nothing could be more unfair!
Actually, what exactly prompted surgeon Dr. John Fryer to name the Walkeshwar cliff ‘Malabar Point’ way back in 1672 is not known, nor should it matter much to us. Whatever the clan of sea raiders in question – Gujarathis, Marathas, Dharmapatan dwellers, Marakkars, Arabs, or the Portuguese – the British had no right to call them pirates when they themselves were worse than pirates cursed with an insatiable greed to invade foreign lands. That they used the Walkeshwar Hill to ‘monitor’ the nuisance of pirates is hence a laughable piece of trivia.
Sadly, even to this day, we find Indians from different states and castes reeling in the effect of Britain’s ‘divide and rule’ policy. No wonder, we find many among them single-mindedly absolving them of what they reckon as ‘allegations’, while ‘blaming’ other states and their inhabitants for all that was seemingly deplorable or unlawful in the past, whether piracy or any other form of loot or raid.
The English rulers have long gone, but ‘English rules’ yet loom large within us, and the seeds of discontentment these whites planted way back on our soil have bloomed into dense forests of parochial pride and prejudice. (That this lament should be spelt out in the English language is indeed cosmic irony, but that's another story for another time.) To this day, we remain hapless victims of the English virus that has infected us beyond repair. No vaccine, whatever the type and dosage, can protect us from this infiltration unless we build immunity from within.
Whether or not Malabar Hill was named after the Keyi family of Malabar, who owned the place before selling it to the East India company, there is no reason why Kerala should be singled out in the context of sea piracy, nor should any other region from India for that matter, for their acts are to be studied in the context of their times which came with an elusive mix of taxing compulsions and trying circumstances.
We should pay homage to every single native of our country, whatever the faith, religion, caste or creed, who left an indelible imprint on the sands of time. We must cherish the fact that Malabar Hill was once called Shrigundi and was frequented by Shivaji and Maratha Naval commander Kanhoji Angre. We must celebrate the effort of a Shenvi Brahmin called Rama Kamath who painstakingly rebuilt the Walkeshwar temple in 1715 post the destruction at the hands of the Portuguese. We must recount the adventures of Chovvakkaran Moosa, the father figure of the Keyi clan, who once owned large parts of Bombay including Malabar Hill.
We must revel in the glory of the Hanging gardens, the beautiful green house with a clock tower, big shoe house, and water reservoir designed by Ulhas Ghapokar in 1881 in the everlasting memory of Barrister lawyer, activist and political leader Pherozeshah Mehta, fondly known as the Lion of Bombay.
We must cherish the Banganga tank attached to the temple, which is Mumbai’s oldest structure covering a 115 * 40 meter expanse surrounded by steps from all sides. As many as 23 temples are located in the vicinity. To the south of this tank was a rock with a significant Yoni-like crevice, which gradually faded into oblivion due to natural wear and tear. It was believed that one was absolved of one’s sins on passing through the opening. The pole at the centre of the tank is believed to be the centre of earth.
In fact, a Ramayana story is linked to Banganga. More than 5000 years ago, Lord Rama passed by this place en route his search of Sita. On piercing an arrow deep into the soil to fetch water, he discovered a sacred tank brimming with water from the Ganges. He fashioned a sand idol of Lord Shiva in gratitude which came to be known as the Walkeshwar temple shrine {The word Walkeshwar is a Sandhi word between Waaluka (sand) + Ishwar (God).}