How philanthropists can shape the destiny of a city

In 1841, in this beloved city of mine — this city of gold — there lived a woman who, by most worldly measures, was super-rich. Think of her as the equivalent of a multi-billionaire today. She was born into privilege, inheriting great wealth from her father. Married to an equally affluent man, she had access to everything money could buy.
This remarkable woman loved to travel to the outskirts of Bombay, riding in her horse-drawn carriage with an entourage of helpers and horsemen. On one such journey, she stopped by the banks of the Mithi River, where it meets the Arabian Sea — a point we now know as Mahim Creek. (Yes, the same dark and polluted river we see today, but back in 1841, its waters were crystal clear.)
Across the creek lay Salsette Island, which we now recognize as modern-day Bandra. At that time, the only way to cross the creek was by boat. As she sat there, the skies opened up, and a heavy downpour began. Amid the chaos, a boat carrying villagers capsized. Tragically, no one survived.
Shocked by the tragedy, she turned to her team and asked, “Does this happen often, or is this just a one-off incident?” Their answer was sobering: “Bai, this happens frequently during the monsoons.”
Bombay’s population was growing every day. The rice cultivators of Salsette and the villagers of Bandra were crossing the creek in increasing numbers. The dingy boat traffic was growing, and so were the risks. Something had to be done.
As a woman of immense wealth — and even greater compassion — she sought an immediate audience with the British governor of Bombay. She urged and implored the government to build a road connecting Bombay to Salsette Island. The governor, while sympathetic, admitted the government couldn’t afford such a project due to lack of funds.
Apparently, the government already had plans to build a road across the creek but hadn’t been able to act on them. Upon hearing this, she made a bold offer: “I will pay for the entire cost of the road bridge.”
My gentle readers, leaders, rich people of Bombay — okay, don’t bite me, Mumbai —one individual, one-woman, paid Rs 155,500 in 1841. In the year 2009 that amount would be equivalent of Rs 3,850 crore (don’t ask me how I calculated it, but trust me on this, I put good use of my tech and finance degrees). Four years later, in 1845 the road bridge was inaugurated and her contribution was so profound that it opened up the entire city to the residents of the once-disconnected Salsette Island, besides saving countless lives.
The only condition she attached to her generosity: The bridge must remain toll-free forever. No one should have to pay to use the road she funded. A simple, pure condition.
Now, let me tell you why I stopped calculating her donation’s value at 2009. That was the year the Bandra-Worli Sea Link was inaugurated. It was built at a cost of Rs 1,600 crore. Since June 2009, every day, every vehicle that crosses it pays a toll, and this will likely continue for many years to come.
All it would have taken was one wealthy individual — a billionaire, heiress, or even the wife of a wealthy industrialist — to write a cheque of Rs 1,600 crore to the Maharashtra government. At the entry and exit of the Sea Link, we could’ve seen a plaque that read:
“A gift to the city and people of Mumbai from [xxx].”
But this isn’t a story of criticism; it’s a story of inspiration. The woman who made this happen in 1841 was Lady Avabai Jamsetjee Jeejeebhoy. The project she funded, known as the Mahim Causeway, is used by lakhs of vehicles every day. It has become so seamlessly integrated into the city’s infrastructure that we often fail to recognize that it is nearly 180 years old.
As Anne Frank wisely wrote, “No one has ever become poor by giving.” Lady Avabai’s story teaches us that true wealth is not measured by what you accumulate but by what you give. It’s about using your privilege to make life better for others.
And today, I can’t help but wonder if there’s a modern-day Avabai among us. Perhaps she’s out there, waiting for the right moment or cause to transform the city. Perhaps she’s someone’s wife or daughter — or perhaps, who knows, maybe my own wife or my daughter someday will be that philanthropist, Insha’Allah.
Rich people inspire goodness. And when they do, that’s all they’re remembered for —long after they’re gone.
(Faisal Farooqui is a co-founder of two tech startups and CEO of MouthShut.com)