Second and Last Day in Bombay/Mumbai

11 June 2010 21:23

I can't believe that it has only been two days since I arrived in India. I've seen and learned so many things that it seems like a month's time has passed. Bombay no longer seems like a strange place. It will never lose it’s chaotic personality, but the chaos seems to make sense . . . or at least it works and the necessary tasks for a functional community/society can be carried out.

It was overwhelmingly hot a humid today. I was soaked to the bone, and I have never witnessed such an abundant stream of sweat streaming from my brow. It also rained pretty heavily. It is officially monsoon season.

This morning, I caught the Mumbai Central train by myself and successfully made it to the Bandra train station on the fast train without a hitch. Avery had told me how last night, but I was quite proud. The I took an auto rickshaw (which is sort of like a taxi with three wheels, no doors and wire frame) to the Dharavi t-junction. Here I was meeting Sharmilla, who was taking me to see the SPARC projects within the infamous Dharavi slum.

As we walked, Shamilla told the history of the Dharavi building projects and explained some of the politics and difficulties involved. Through a special savings program, families living in the slum give a few rupees to SPARC each month as a sort of investment and savings. These monies then go towards the construction of new high-rise building complexes that will provide more comfortable housing and toilets for their families.

Thus far, four, seven-story buildings have been erected through this program. Each room is 180 square-feet, has 12-foot ceilings (the top acting as a sort of half-story for storage, sleeping or children area), and either a private or community toilet. These rooms are home to 5-7 individuals or more for families with many children. Shamilla was even able to allow me to tour through these homes. They were very clean and well kept and the residents were gracious. Impressive.

Dharavi is one of the most infamous slums in the world. It is horrific, but also rather amazing and awing. There are over 1,500,000 homes with an average of 7 family members in each settlement. . . crunch some numbers and that is approximately 5.6 million (I can’t remember within how much area of land). The population density in the slum is 250,000 persons per square kilometer.

BUT Dharavi is not a typical slum. These people are not simply laying in their beds hoping that funding will save them. Quite the contrary. Each home is a sort of business, either selling goods or offering some special service. The slum economy is booming, and the community is strong. I wish that I was staying here is Mumbai longer so that I could truly witness the rhythm of this place. . . but Bangalore awaits tomorrow.

Avery was home ill today, so I went over to the office after the slum tour and spoke with another one of the ladies there about the things that they want me to do while I am in Bangalore. I can tell that this is not the same that John will want. They each have their own agendas, and I’m caught in the middle.

Avery was supposed to show me a bit of the city tonight, but because she was ill, I took it upon myself to do the touring. . . So I went to Colaba Causeway in the most tourist part of Mumbai. It was an experience, but I don’t think that I would like to repeat it any time soon.

To get there, I took a taxi from Chinani Road train station. I was not sure what to expect.Tourist is the only description. The Causeway is on the water. It was left over from the times of British rule. Now there are colorful ferries, a large stone/cement arch, and a massive, ornate palace.

The amount of giddy people almost made me sick. Tourists posing for photos everywhere. A girl approached me and gave me a sad sappy story as means of begging. Countless photographers demanded to take my photo. Ice cream sellers cried out and beckoned sales.

After snapping a few quick photos, I fled. What I really wanted to do in that part of town was to go to LEOPOLD’s, the popular hang-out in the book Shantaram, but it was so touristy, that I was actually too embarrassed to ask for directions. Instead, I spent a great deal of time following tourists around. Finally, I stumbled upon the sign on a street corner engulfed by people, venders and police. I went inside and had a greasy, expensive supper.

Afterwards, I simply wanted to go back to the hotel and go to bed, but it was impossible to hail a cab. I walked for several hours trying to find my way to the Church Gate train station. At one point, I asked a middle aged women for directions. She spoke beautiful English and was astoundingly kind. We shared my first “head-waggle” exchange. I was/am much obliged for her flawless help.

Goodknight.