Wednesday, April 13, 2005


Cyrus Broacha is one of the wackiest Bawa’ji I have ever experienced in my life. Most Bawas, in my opinion, are a little bit crazy, though the degree of lunacy greatly varies from Peston to Rustom’s. The ones in the Parsiwadas and the Parsi colony’s definitely are a notch or two higher on the ‘yeda’ scale than their non-colony brethrens. The eccentricities of most of the Bawas are harmless with no malicious intent whatsoever , which definately makes them unique and fun to be around. I vividly remember my walks to the mutton shop every Sunday morning, which was better accessible via a short-cut through the Parsi colony. There was this crazy old Bawaji with blood shot eyes behind thick soda water glasses , dressed in his loose white pajamas with the naada hanging outside, a transparent tunic and a cap on his head, who would sometimes come running towards me yelling ‘Saala, Bhenchod, meri beti pe line marta hai’. And I would just take off and run like crazy, for my life followed by the crazy Bawaji, stray dogs, some kids who’d join the fun and all. Never could I really figure out who this crazy old chap really was, and I don’t think he really even had a daughter. And there was Khushroo who lived in our apartment complex who would rain Karate chops and kicks on us if he was referred to as “Bawa”. Barring that single character flaw, he was otherwise, a pretty normal Bawaji.

Back to Cyrus Broacha, who would host the hilariously funny 'MTV Bakra' a long time ago. I still remember his dumbfounded look, when he got slapped on the streets of Bombay by some cabbie or rickshaw guy when he tried to play his prank on them. But these episodes were really, really good and the plots that he (or his writers) came up with were really ingenious and always in good intent. Check out this article that he has written in Mid-day about the Dancing Girls of Bombay. Vintage Broacha. Some boys just never grow up and become men. Thanks Cyrus for not growing up. We appreciate you….immensely.


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