Jewish celebrities and Indian bagels

23-25 Feb

A contrast emerged of the boring slowness of work with the social fun evenings on the town. Friday night went to shule and met a local woman, Rema. When she entered the balcony she did the touching the chest and mouth thing I’ve seen Hindus do in front of pictures or idols of saints or gods. I wonder if that’s a custom across the Jewish community, or if it’s something she picked up from her husband, who is Hindu. We exchanged numbers and she offered an open invitation for me to come to her house, which would be so nice! I’m really curious to see a Jewish house, or in this case, Jewdu. Or Hinwish. After shule the whole group of Robbie, Benji, his Australian entourage, Erin and I went to Chabad and created enough overflow that a whole new table had to be brought out for us. When we were in line to wash, an older woman from New York introduced herself to me, and started introducing me to her husband and daughter when she saw Rabbi Gabi holding a book and she said, “Oh, that’s my husband’s book.” Right- her husband is the one and only Rabbi Joseph Telushkin! I was so excited, I shook his hand (he wasn’t wearing visible tzit tzit and his wife’s hair wasn’t covered so I figured he’s not shomer negiya, but who knows- he ran with it) and told him I’m a big fan, and that I’ve written many a dvar Torah practically plagiarizing his book. Good one, Joce, good one.

After dinner (which was particularly gendered- they wouldn’t let Mrs. Telushkin lead a song and they skipped me in the introductions), we walked back down the Colaba gauntlet to Mondy’s for drinks. Rahul was there with some friends who were going to Polyester’s (as the name would suggest, a disco club) but we stayed there. Robbie randomly reunited with 2 friends from a summer program he did last year in Denmark called Humanity in Action- one friend is a teacher in Pune, and his girlfriend came to visit, and it just so happens we were all at the same bar at the same time. That’s Bombay. Getting into the taxi to go home, a hash dealer was trying to get us to come with him for his goods, but we insisted we had to go. He asked our names and Robbie started it off introducing himself as Joe. Erin said Alice, I said Maggie, and Benji said Henry. Now we have official aliases.

Saturday I had my first Hindi lesson with Bobby, the favorite of the expats. He’s got a very funny way about him, a subtle sense of humor that’s actually pretty cheesy. I think he’ll be a fun teacher. Later in the afternoon I headed down to the Gateway of India to catch the ferry to Elephanta Island for the Elephanta Festival- live traditional music and dance, food, good times. I was the only white person on the boat and it felt cool to say to the guy next to me, I live in Bombay. The engine died just before we reached the island and I thought we might have to swim the rest of the way, but they got it working and we arrived in one piece. The festival stage was set up on a hill beside the main staircase you take to get up to the attractions- so it was actually outside of the historic area itself. The lower level had fancy covered chairs for the VIPs, but I think the plebe seats were much better- cushions and bolster pillows set up for lounging, at a perfect angle to look down onto the stage. The Orissa dancing was wonderful, but it would have been better if I knew the stories upon which they’re based. It went on for a long time, it’s amazing that the dancers can memorize that much choreography and keep up their energy. During the intermission I found Benji and his Australian entourage, and the people sitting around them left so there was room for me to join them. The second half was live singing with some woman who is apparently also a PhD in Biochemistry or something. Reminded me of camp, being out in the wild, and also Blossom or Cain Park. It was a lovely evening, another pinch me moment. Benji and I debated staying over and just sleeping there, but figured it wouldn’t fly with the authorities so we went back on the ferry with everyone else. Turns out the woman sitting next to me was the announcer of the show. We got to talking because she was playing music on her cell phone/ video/ photo camera/ stereo. Pretty sophisticated system. Anyway she said she lives in Walada next to the Imax in what sounds like some sort of private gated community with a gym, pool, access to the bookstore and theatre in the Imax complex, etc. Sounds pretty posh.

Outside of Churchgate on the way back home, Benji and I saw tons of street food vendors, who manage to set up elaborate systems to prepare and cook food that are beyond me. At one point they actually lifted up the whole set up and moved it across the sidewalk. We had really good fried rice and ice cream. What is it about outings that makes people want ice cream? It was so good.

Sunday I walked down a perpendicular street to S.V. Road, thinking I would eventually hit the water. The street was lined with tall apartment buildings that looked pretty nice, some small shops, a few street stalls, and then it ended into some sort of walled creek of filth lined with shacks. I started walking down along the creek but felt pretty uncomfortable and realized it wasn’t really cool for me to be all up in this slum neighborhood. It feels like an invasion of privacy and it's just so patently clear that I'm out of place there.

After that I met up with Akshay in Bandra at the Stopper’s Shop, an upscale department store just like the ones at home with an overwhelming perfume and makeup area leading into the other floors. So weird to have these home experiences here- to feel so 'in place'. Anyway from there we took a rick to Bandstand, the area around the old Bandora fort the Portuguese built that’s left in ruins. The area is really cute with manicured lawns and paths, ruins to climb on. We could see the building on the bridge which will be the Bandra- Worli sea link, a massive project by the city to cut down commuting time for the 10% of Mumbaikers who drive. Way to privilege the few over the many. What the hell? What the city needs is more public transportation, not roads for cars. Anyway, in the garden area there was a sign with the rules, including “no antisocial behavior.” I joked that I thought that meant it’s not allowed to sit by yourself absorbed in a book, looking stand-offish. Akshay said that sort of activity doesn’t exist here, and that the sign meant no drug dealers or hooligans, or PDA- but apparently it’s a big spot for couples. We saw a bride and groom walking on the rocks by the water, actually. Cute.

Anyway, from there we went up to Mt. Mary, site of an old and famous cathedral. Evidently there’s some legend that Mary washed up on the shores here, and it’s a holy site. A bunch of Bollywood stars live in this area also, really big nice apartment buildings with exorbitant real estate prices. We stopped in a little coffee shop sort of equivalent for chai, and I didn’t do a clear enough head wobble so I ended up with “bread and butter” which is basically a soft roll like a hamburger bun with little fruity candy bits stuffed in it, liberally spread with butter and sliced into strips. For most of the time we were there, I was the only woman and the only white person. I think my being a woman stuck out even more- it’s just a guys’ place, I guess. They sell Mountain Dew.

Akshay mentioned another café where he goes to do work because it has free wireless called The Bagel Shop, so naturally I wanted to check it out. We walked there, through a church compound in which the courtyard where everyone walks is made of tombstones (not sure if they are actually graves, but either way it was creepy and I didn’t like it). The Portuguese style is evident in the bungalows in this area, Chium Village. Really cute. So we get to The Bagel Shop and it is adorable. Akshay said the owner is Afghani, but when I told Erin about it later she said he’s Israeli and also owns another place in town. Little stools and tables, actually good bagels, avocado! We sat outside on padded porch furniture, enjoying watermelon juice and a coffee table book about some guy who has traveled to 100 countries. I’ve got 88 to go.

In the evening I went to the Purim party at the JCC, where the kids had a “fancy dress” competition. By far the cutest! Of course lots of girls dressed up as Esther, but there were various creative ideas- a tree, a Jewish boy who recited a bunch of morning prayers which was really touching, a Kashmiri girl, Shabbat candles, a Chinese girl, a hip hop dancer, a Bollywood dancer, King Ahashverosh. Joseph Telushkin spoke after the contest while the kids were off making mishloach manot. Apparently they had to do Purim early this year to avoid conflicting with Holi, which I’m very excited to see this weekend. Rabbi Telushkin spoke about the 4 questions a Jew is asked after he/she dies: 1. were you honest in your business dealings? 2. did you study Torah? 3. did you have children and teach them Judaism? 4. did you work to make the world better? I think those are excellent questions, and reveal that Judaism is much more than observing antiquated rituals between man and God. Judaism really is about the relationship between man and man, I definitely agree with that point he made.

I also met an Israeli Indian woman from Kiryat Shmona who lives in Thane. Her Hebrew was really fast and I couldn’t entirely keep up, but she invited me for Shabbat sometime which should be especially interesting. I’m racking them up! She told a story about being at a shule where there were no men to lead the service, so she was the shaliach tzibur in an orthodox shule. Amazing.

After the party Erin and I met up with Benji to go to Shadia’s goodbye party, at the Hard Rock Café! Another weird home in India moment. Pretty good nachos, actually, and a fun night.