Finally a train rolled in and it was overflowing – even good old British force wouldn’t get us in the doors. After seeing that the trains arriving on the other platforms were also all overflowing (so much for quieter Sunday services – God knows what the services must be like during the week), we gave up on our Colaba dream and opted for a rickshaw ride back to Andheri instead. After 5 minutes I realized the meter was showing Rs 50, which was way too much for the distance travelled. So we got him to pull over, gave him an ear bashing and Rs 20. Some people on the street heard the ear bashing, came over to see what was going on and agreed with us that we were being ripped off.
Feeling righteously justified, we walked back to Andheri and stopped at a coffee shop for a breather (and some AC). Cue Babaji, who waltzed in with his man servants. Nix mentioned his arrival to me so I turned around to have a look. He had 2 Sikh servants with ceremonial knives acting as bodyguards, and another Sikh servant to order the coffee for him. Once his coffee arrived he drank it whilst spinning continuously at the counter (knocking in to everyone else stood in the queue) and twitching his left hand. I used to work in psychiatric wards in the UK, and if I had seen Babaji there I would definitely have classified him as “care in the community”. Here he is revered for some reason. Anyway, he took to glaring at us and asking us the same question in Hindi over and over again in a very aggro manner. We asked one of the other customers what he meant and they said he was asking if we were English. His Sikh servant came over and gently explained that Babaji likes blue eyes. Right. I personally wanted to give Babaji a Bombay Bitch Slap ™, but refrained and chose to smile at him instead to see if I could dissolve the aggro vibes. No such luck. The customers we spoke to said that Babaji is believed to have transcended desire. My response to that was “Then why is he swanning about with servants and getting coffee in upmarket Andheri?” They laughed and shook their heads. I told them that I felt the softly spoken Sikh servant was more worthy of respect than Babaji, and that I believe people’s actions and behaviour count for more than titles bestowed on them. They seemed to agree, and laughed some more. Babaji continued to glare at us, sip his coffee, twirl and twitch his hand. Time for his meds I think.