Arrival in Mumbai

Sunday, January 28, 2007 18:08, Avanti Building, opposite St. Teresa Convent, S.V. Road, Santa Cruz West, Mumbai

This is how my address is written. There’s no house number, no flat number, just a general sense of direction and identification. So it is with many other locations, streets, markets, landmarks. They just don’t bother with street numbers all the time. Eh, why not?

So- Bombay. Jeez. Where to begin?

Arrived Thursday afternoon, the flight was delayed but inconsequential. I figured out how to use the payphone to call for my driver, which was an accomplishment, and on top of that, finding him and finding the house. After learning that my hostess’s name is Patricia Soans and gathering that her neighborhood is a more affluent suburb with expats, etc, I wondered if she would be anglo. I arrived at the door to see a full-blooded Indian woman. The flat is very nice- in a way reminds me of my grandparents’ apartment in Harrisburg (or at least some bastardized memory of that distant past) with fancier furniture that’s rarely used, doilies with glass tchotchkes, lacey tablecloths. It became readily apparent that the family is Catholic, with numerous icons to Jesus and Mary around the place, including a wood-carved face of Jesus with a crown of thorns upon a cross on my desk, as well as a plastic figure of Mary containing what I guess is holy water. (Notable that Jesus and Mary are white and do not look at all like the people worshipping them.)

We sat down in the living room (so I guess they do use the fancier furniture sometimes) and I had a drink. Patricia told me about SNEHA, where she sits on the board- it does outreach for health care and education, child care, and women’s empowerment in the slums. She made a comment that rang very true- “Many of us who grew up in Bombay, spent our entire lives here, have no idea what the slums are like and have never seen them at all.” I hope to learn more about how she became a member of the board- today she showed me a brochure about the organization which listed her as co-founder, actually. They host AJWS volunteers frequently, including in this cycle. When she mentioned her husband’s death she referred to him as ‘expired,’ and spoke of her 4 older children living in Australia.

She seems very independent and self-sufficient, and employs no less than 4 servants- a personal secretary (he takes care of the ‘investments and such’), a ‘girl’ who cooks, serves, generally waits around, an older woman who does other cooking, and another woman who ‘sweeps and swabs’ the floors. The latter woman has the most bizarre configuration of teeth I think I’ve ever seen, and moves along the floor with extraordinary foot strength. Like Gopala, the ‘orderly’ at the National Peace Council office in Sri Lanka, her feet seem to have adapted to a shoe-less existence and lots of time of the whole body spent near to the ground. None of these women speak a word of English, so we get by with lots of smiles and nods and pointing.

My room is nice, good size with a marble floor and my own bathroom with an open shower, completely tiled. Slightly larger than a twin bed (no princess mosquito net this time, although I could use one- about which, more later), nice dark wood frame. A sitting chair, a folded cushion/chair/futon (or more crudely, a flip-and-fuck), a corner desk with a built in bookshelf and lots of cabinets, a large armoire full of linens and towels, a narrower wardrobe that reminds me a bit of our cubbies from camp- room on top for hanging items, and two shelves underneath. Finally, a small chest of drawers with a mirror that’s too low for my face, so I get to look at my stomach in the mirror while I’m changing, what glee. The cabinets and drawers in the desk as well as the bottom drawers of the wardrobe and bureau are all occupied, but so far, at least, there’s enough room. There are two mini square drawers in the bureau that are perfect for socks and underwear, and I get a kick out of that. Little pleasures, little pleasures. I have a little balcony outside a door I keep shut and an a/c right next to the bed. I can’t imagine that having an a/c right on top of me while sleeping would be so pleasant, but we’ll see what happens when the heat rises. The ceiling fan is more than sufficient so far. I’ve hung the robe that Miles got me in Japan on the back of the door, and it inflates with the wind from the fan so it looks like an invisible person is hiding inside, trapped against the door.

So I unpacked and then lay down to read and rest a bit. Next thing I knew it was after 8:00 and there were guests in the living room: Patricia’s sister, who goes by Nandy, and a couple visiting from overseas, but I couldn’t keep straight where. They talked about the UK, Australia, Brazil, France, and who knows where else- evidently some sort of jet-setters, and the women all went to the Catholic school across the street together. The apartment has been in the family’s hands for several generations, and they’ve always lived in this neighborhood- heavily Portuguese and Catholic. Walking around today I saw the Sacred Heart cemetery; all the names are Fernandez and the like. Even in this largely Catholic neighborhood, I passed at least 2 mosques and several Hindu shrines. I’m surprised I haven’t seen more large Hindu temples. Maybe I just haven’t been to the right places.

Anyway, we had dinner on the kitchen shelf/island sitting on stools. I guess I was expecting we’d eat at the dining room table since the place seems so formal, but it was comfortable and homey at the island. For dinner we had some sort of chicken eggroll thing, ‘mince’ (ground meat of some sort), mixed vegetable curry, dal, and chappatis (which I learned are different from roti in that they have oil and are cooked in a pan, whereas rotis are cooked right on the flame). I took the eggroll when Patricia specifically asked me if I was eating it, but avoided the mince. The vegetarian question remains: it’s so easy to be completely veg here, even ‘pure veg’ (vegan), but should I follow the customs of the house and eat whatever’s given to me out of respect? Definitely the Catholic diet is different than Hindu or Muslim. The curries aren’t very spicy, which is actually a bit of a disappointment. Everything’s tasty, it’s just not what I was expecting, I guess.

After dinner we repaired back to the living room, and the next-door neighbors came in with the news that they found a new flat- two young white women, one American, one Canadian. I was so happy to see peers that I could turn to for friendship and guidance in this new place, so after some general socializing I went with them to their flat just down the hall. Leah is 22 or 23 and from Lexington, Mass- she got a kick out of the fact that I babysat down the street from where she lives. Lauren is Canadian (Toronto?) and 26. They are both here through AIESIC, some international student internship exchange program. Leah went to University of Illinois and works with the Ashoka Foundation and Lauren works for Seventeen magazine’s India version. Last year she worked with some company in Oslo which she described as night and day in its difference to here. Leah reminds me so much of Sarah Light; they are long lost twin sisters. I wonder if either of them realizes that they speak with a local affect- their English has taken on a distinctly Indian sound, particularly the pronunciation of our street. At moments I’ve heard myself doing the same thing, actually, too- to rickshaw or taxi drivers, and on the phone with Mr. Joshi, my boss. Seeing these girls living a fully functional life here on their own inspired me, and excited me to get connected to their expat network. In fact, a guy who wrote to the Bombay expats yahoo group about a party that night at a club called Leah while I was there – I had emailed him to see about meeting up. After they ordered dinner- Chinese delivery from Fat Kong’s (ha!)- we got ready to go out to the club. Before I left Patricia warned me not to let anyone into the house- apparently there had been some trouble with her niece and/or allegedly the girls next door having overnight guests ‘some fellows’. Obviously, I understand that- I hope there isn’t an expectation of me having a curfew or anything like that, though. Patricia’s bedroom door is directly opposite mine, so some degree of sneaking around will be necessary, regardless. Oy.

We got in for free, no questions asked. Leah explained that usually they get their names on the guest list, or the men just pay, but at this place we just walked in ourselves for free. No complaints here. Another AIESIC girl was leaving the next day, so this was her last goodbye. A bunch of other young expats were there, including a AJWS volunteer

(Robbie) and JDC (Erin) whose names I had been given, along with the aforementioned email guy. I met a whole bunch of people, lots from other countries- Holland, Hungary, Germany, Australia, New Zealand, UK. Few Indians, but I spoke with one of them, Ashka (?), friend of Robbie’s who works for the Times of India. He engaged me in what I’m sure was a fascinating conversation about social change and economic development in India, but it was far too loud to understand- I’ll have to follow up with him later. When the club was closing two Indian men came over to ask us where to continue the party, and it threw me off to hear completely British accents from them. I guess foreign Indians have the same sort of cache as whites?

Good time at the club, Escape- a little kitschy, but fun. From there I was feeling adventurous so I took off with 2 Aussies and a Kiwi off to another club where Jen, the third flat mate next door, and a bunch of others were headed. Lee and Greg both work for some big company and live in shmancy hotels- Lee has his own driver, Greg actually lives in Malaysia but spends 10 days here, 4 days there at a time, for work. I asked him (over the Fosters he bought me) why he lives there when he spends more time here- he said “better luxury”. Well, all right then. Jules apparently works for the same company but in some other capacity, has gorgeous long dreadlocks and was an interesting sight of mixed images with dress pants and dress shoes, but a partyer tee-shirt and the dreads. Interesting contrast between the idealistic volunteer/ngo expat life and the business mogul life, but regardless of these internal nuances, either way we’re seen by Indians as the absolute top. Evidently they want to be where the white people are- going to the next club was a clear example of that.

We arrived at the Marriott in Juhu, evidently a pretty nice area- one of the nicest hotels I’ve ever seen, gleaming and sparkling. The club there, Enigma, is one of the more exclusive spots in town- Rs 800 for a couple to enter and more for singles. Apparently this is a common practice at clubs, and it led to a rather funny encounter with Lee and Greg trying to convince the door guys to let them in as a couple despite the homophobia implicit in the couples policy. I wonder if GLBT bars have the same policy? Anyway, this was much more of a proper club with a really crowded dance floor and numerous bars, and clearly the Bombay elite. Lots of girls wearing the same sorts of outfits you’d find in clubs at home, but then plenty in traditional outfits as well. And guys in western clothes, but then with their turbans wrapped on top. Totally fun, playing old school hip-hop from when I was in middle school. At the very end the DJ wished everyone a happy Republic Day and played some bhangra, and Robbie (another AJWS volunteer with World Partners) started dancing with a nearby Sikh guy, who then moved on to me. It was hysterical, and so much fun, and I was sad when the rest of the group took off, I would have much rather stayed and boogied down properly. The DJ announced “Desi night” with hip-hop next Thursday, which gave me a chuckle. Desi/hip-hop? Again, I’m learning that indeed India is a land of contradictions, as Akshay said earlier.

We all piled into Cory’s car and headed back to his place in Pali Hill, another super nice part of town, speeding along with music blaring. Ah, to be young again- they’re all about 22. Cory was a professional hockey player in his native Canada for a few years, and dropped out of university at 19 to take this job in India with some e-commerce company. He lives in a super nice apartment, I bet it would go for well over $3600 a month in San Francisco. We just hung out and chatted and listened to music, and finally I decided I needed to head back for fear of the curfew. I felt fine taking a rickshaw by myself but they all insisted that someone go with me, which of course would be Jen. I was worried I was cramping her style, but such is the condition of the new kid, I guess. 4 of us crammed into a rickshaw, depositing two on the way. By the time I finished writing my journal and getting ready for bed, it was 5 am. Wow! Friday I woke up with a majorly sore throat around noon, ate lunch, watched the end of an episode of Everyone Loves Raymond with Patricia in the family room (so very Western) and then went back to bed for a combination of reading and sleeping. Clearly my internal clock needed to be reset, but I could also feel a bad cold coming on, following the normal path but at some crazy accelerated speed. Is it the pollution here, the dust you can feel coming into your mouth, nose, and eyes, and settling on your skin? Was it the kid sitting behind me on the flight from Delhi hacking up a lung? Was it a strange twist on the expected reaction to starting to use the tap water? Did I catch it beforehand? Was it aggravated by the coldness of Delhi?