Not long ago, Suketu Mehta wrote a riveting book on Mumbai and its underbelly and ever since, television channels reporting events in the metropolis are referring to it by the name Mehta gave it – Maximum City. It should surprise no-one if Mehta’s sequel – if he ever gets down to writing one – is called Minimum City. For in the same breath, it is both Maximum and Minimum, and the incongruity of it all came home at the Brabourne Stadium, when South Africa took on New Zealand.

While the stands were nowhere near full – no-one is even expecting that to happen but for high-profile India matches – there was a decent smattering of fans in the stands. The East Stand, the cheapest of the lot, where you had to sit on benches, in the full glare of the skin-peeling October sun, where gatekeepers wouldn’t let you out for a cigarette all day, the real faithful put in a stellar effort to watch cricket. In the stands to the left and right of the press box, where you paid up to Rs 5000 to occupy a plastic chair, and were mercifully in the shade, there was a good turn out.

At the far end of the ground, the Pavilion End, are the best seats in the house. Right behind the bowler’s arm, three magnificent floors of the clubhouse, give you pretty much the finest cricket viewing in the city. Naturally, there was plenty of clamour for that building before the game – with the press putting in an application to house the media facilities there. That would have meant the possibility of an airconditioned box, and comfortable conditions to work in. But the members of the Cricket Club in India would have none of it. They were up in arms to ensure that their rights were protected – am I the only one getting sick of that phrase? – and they got their wish. Even the ICC – which has boxes for its officials and for corporate hospitality – were kept out of the main pavilion – and housed instead at the top of the West Stand. The press were shunted to the Churchgate End.

And what happened when the match came around? The members of this great club were cooling their heels at home, or hard at work, or getting a manicure, or whatever else it is they do when there’s an international match at their ground. All three floors – where members and their spouses got in for free – were frustratingly empty, even as the public, who had shelled out good money, toughed it out in the other stands.

Oh, and while we’re on the subject of incongruity, take a trip down the road from the Brabourne Stadium to the Taj Mahal Palace & Tower hotel. There, Adam Gilchrist – bless his soul, he’s one of those cricketers who lends himself to the promotion of so many good causes – was at a function publicising the “Make Poverty History” campaign of World Vision, a “Christian humanitarian organisation working to create lasting change in the lives of children and families living in poverty and injustice”, according to their literature. Gilchrist apparently sponsors a child from World Vision’s program.

A quick call to the hotel to enquire about their tariffs will get you a sweet voice at their “Sales and Catering” desk. The Crystal Central room, where the “Make Poverty History” campaign meeting is happening, costs Rs 80,000 to rent, and you have to guarantee a minimum of 200 guests costing Rs 1059.95 per person (“Only 850 plus 24.7% tax sir” the person at the Taj chirps cheerfully) for high tea. That’s Rs 2,91,990, minimum, for high tea to “Make Poverty History” In Mumbai, where tens of thousands of homeless children beg for food, and get high sniffing glue tubes scavenged from dumpsters, you can’t help but wonder what costs people will incur, to “Make Poverty History.”