The Bandra Send-off: The pilgrimage of friendship

Credit By: SYED NISSAR HUSSAIN GILANI

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• 14 Apr 2026

The true depth of this bond revealed itself in 1981, when my wife and I were blessed to perform the Hajj at the young age of our early thirties

To many, the sprawling metropolis of Bombay (now Mumbai) can feel like a labyrinth of strangers, but for me, it was never a strange place. My relationship with the city began in 1969, during a 15-day educational tour as a post-graduate Zoology student at Kashmir University. We were guided by the world-renowned zoologist, the late Prof. Dr. M. K. Das, whose mentorship made that trip unforgettable.

Dr. Das went beyond the curriculum, even arranging a visit to a film studio where the shooting of the iconic movie Aradhana was taking place. It was there that we, as wide-eyed students, had the rare privilege of meeting and shaking hands with the "First Superstar," Rajesh Khanna, and the graceful Sharmila Tagore.

​The city called me back in 1971 when I was selected by one of India’s top pharmaceutical companies to undergo a rigorous nine-month training program, eventually earning a diploma in Basic Health Services. By the time 1978 arrived, Bombay was a landscape of familiar faces and deep-rooted friendships.

The Docks and the Diplomat

In September 1978, I returned to the city to see off my mother for her Haj pilgrimage—a voyage that then began with a ship’s departure from the city's docks toward the Hijaz. During those years, my stay was made comfortable by a dear friend, the late Qazi Mohammad Amin. An IAS officer from Kashmir, then deputed to the Foreign Service, Qazi Sahib served as the Executive Officer of the Haj Committee from 1978 to 1985. His kindness was boundless; he frequently opened his official residence to us, providing a sanctuary for my parents and later for my wife and me.
​It was also at the Bombay docks that I met Mr. Pednekar, then a Sub-Inspector in the police. Our professional encounter quickly blossomed into a bond as deep as the one I shared with the Sharmas. We maintained a close friendship until he passed away a few years ago. Today, that legacy continues through his son, Mr. Tushar, with whom I frequently exchange pleasantries. Truly, great people never die; they live on in the hearts of their friends.

The Encounter at Chor Bazaar

It was during that 1978 stay that serendipity struck in the chaotic, treasure-filled lanes of Chor Bazaar. I overheard a gentleman and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Sharma, debating the purchase of warm jackets for an upcoming trip to Kashmir. Stepping forward, I offered advice on the local climate and impulsively scribbled my address at Yarkand House, Mallaratta, and my landline number, 4144, into their hands.

An Autumn in Mallaratta

By October 1978, the Sharma family arrived in Srinagar. As a vegetarian family, they were treated to the culinary mastery of my wife and grandmother. The dining table at Yarkand House became a bridge of cultures. I recall their delight over the coriander mushroom soup and the cottage cheese dishes. However, the true highlight was the Saffron Kehwa, served with almond slivers in the traditional manner. During their short stay, we ensured their Himalayan holiday was draped in the finest Kashmiri hospitality.

The Sacred Send-off (1981)

The true depth of this bond revealed itself in 1981, when my wife and I were blessed to perform the Hajj at the young age of our early thirties. Though we had the standing invitation of the late Qazi Amin’s residence, the Sharmas insisted we begin our journey from their flat @Bandra.
​In a beautiful display of communal harmony, I stood in the white robes of Ihram inside the Sharmas' home. While many Muslim families in the same tower gathered to see us off, it was Mr. Sharma who, in his traditional way, struck a hard coconut on the ground just minutes before we boarded the car for the airport—a sacred invocation for a journey without obstacles.

The Closing Chapter

Our families remained in touch for nearly fifty years. We watched through letters as his sons, Rajeev and Sanjeev, grew up. Eventually, the Sharmas moved from their iconic seaside addresses at Carter Road and Marine Drive to Nashik. Sadly, the correspondence grew silent; Mr. and Mrs. Sharma have passed on, as has Sanjeev in 2013. Looking at a 1979 letter from Mr. Sharma today, I am reminded that friendship is a duty of the heart. May they rest in eternal peace, knowing the bridge they built remains unshakable in memory.

(The author is a former civil servant from the administrative service and can be reached via  email: nisargilani 57748 @ gmail.com)