Bombay, You Say? (Mumbai, for an Eye?)

Birds & Wires across the Sky

Birds abound in the tree-filled parts of Bandra, Mumbai, and their continuous small chirps and slurps, squawks and squabbles, dances and dives, keep me entertained from my very office window.

The hawks around here also astonish.  They nestle in giant palms, on top of satellite dishes, at the peak of concrete mountains (read: apartment bungalows), and generally incite and encourage fear among all smaller, less monstrous birds.  (Ca-caw, Ca-caw!)

The crows and cormorants are likewise adventuresome; their meals often consist of scavenging fallen food and trash littered about the street, circling it in groups of fours and fives like vultures and arguing like old marrieds.

I sometimes wonder if the birds pick up on the chaos of the city 

and decide 

that their own lives must emulate 

the impending dramas, minor disasters, and social milieus that abound across Bombay.

This is a branching, flowered tree that I photographed with a dark back shadow: I love the inter-twisting lines.

Trees, Wires, and Jumbled Lines, Oh My!

I've seen at least three minor street accidents, which do not include the "mere" tapping of rear-view windows or bumpers, as this is more of a common occurrence and really rather a way of saying "hello" to your traveling neighbor.  (This is not an exaggeration!)  I enjoy walking about but, in high traffic times, particularly at the rush of dusk to early evening, I am careful where I go lest I become sandwiched between two cars fighting for the road.  But perhaps fighting isn't the right word.  People here are rather nice when they are driving, and road rage is not something generally visited upon, though getting cut-off, side-swiped, blocked in traffic, merged into multiple 'lanes' simultaneously, running through red traffic lights (they are more of a 'suggestion'), and being on guard for rickshaws and goods carriers in multiple directions is a must-do in the city.  I'd say if you haven't felt nervous in traffic before, well, then you've probably never visited Mumbai.

Downtown side street, South Bombay

   I remember feeling nervous a decade ago, in bella Roma, when all of the Prada-clad, four-inch heeled women buzzed by the city streets on their little pale blue Vespas, with a vroom vroom and a debonaire grin inching past my stand-still body.  I felt like so much was happening in the city all at once and, while exhilarating, I also wondered how people did the whole city song and dance day in, day out.  I even thought that a posting to Rome would be overly chaotic, and I wondered if we should go there for a longer stay.  Ha!  Looking back at that time, Rome in comparison to Mumbai was play-acting with its chaos, a mere chimera.  I have learned that chaos is a relative term, and Mumbai has it down pat.
(And, it suits me just fine).

I also saw images of NYC recently, areas where I used to look at and first notice the dirty streets.  My first response now: look it at how clean it looks!  (This is not to say, however, that I like New York better... it is just to say that my shift in perspective is noticeable... and amusing.)

Put yo' dancin' shoes on!

 



Living in any place after this, unless if it's a city with over 22-million people, will probably feel just a little less crowded and, most definitely, not nearly as exciting, playful, or intoxicating.  Bombay leaves an impression that is soon hard to forget, etched like a road map with twists, turns, and the inevitable cow-induced road block.

Ah, Mumbai.  She makes me smile.   

Sunrise in the City...

Who is ready for a visit?

India is quickly becoming home and the norm.  Things that once seemed outlandish or extraordinary or surprising are now part and parcel of everyday living.  The adjustment of moving from something that seems foreign to something that feels familiar takes time, patience, and habitual re-introductions: you see the four-year old child begging on the street, tapping on your door window, and your heart cringes.  It is horrific.  You don't understand why in the world children are put up to such daunting tasks, what makes life so cruel, and how these little guys are able to navigate between droves of moving traffic including 'dinosaur' buses, sacred cows, teenage-sped motorcycles, out of control rickshaws, and in-a-hurry cars. 

Smog is Bad, But the Sunsets are Beautiful!

You wonder how the poverty and wealth can meld and intersect and why some people spend $75 USD on a meal at the Taj while others barely get by on 50 rupees a day (85 cents).  You try to get over the small sights that appall you, like when you hear rural cancer patients as young as three are going through chemo treatments in the city but at night must sleep on fecal-infested streets in slum conditions because there is often not enough housing for a sanitary move to health.  They don't even have a chance.

A burgeoning seed pod on the side of a dusty road: a life metaphor?

And then you begin to think about all of the wonderful things that strike you about India:

the artwork painted across "goods carrier" trucks,

the inner sanctum of Hindu temples permeating incense and chants from the Upanishads,

the love of all things Bollywood in its sheer... Bollywoodness,

the way people are so quick to smile and are open to conversation,

the amazing wreaths, stringed necklaces, and bunches of flowers that are carefully tended to on the side of the road,
 the bright lights and loud celebrations at elaborately decorated weddings, the piercing sounds of traditional music which penetrate into your heartbeat, the food and the spices and all of the amazing ancient sites....

A sign of the times

I think I am keen on embracing the whole of India--but I must first become comfortable within the confines of Mumbai.  It is not the place that pictures and films always show, not the images of what is strewn about National Geographic of holy Ganges water and waves and waves of brightly colored saris.  It is a city.  A loud city.  A city of business and bustle and grime.  A city with beautiful restaurants and amazing openings, art galleries, fashion shows, and cinema.  It is a city where nearly half of its residents live in slums or on the street. 
  
It is, for the moment,  my home.

Graffiti-laced wall outside of Bandra Kurla

Clash-King Street Sign & Art Nouveau Riche

City Construction: note the bamboo ladders, hefty protective nets, and city building curves.

Parking in front of a small but proud city abode

tRue Hill Dream: Where 'art' and wealth meet on the street

What does it mean to be a city full of construction, growth, and renewal? 

A city alive and full of possibilities, of endless opportunities and potentials, the chance to be or become or to better oneself... the ability to move on and up in this world, if only for the sake of the children and the children's children
of our future generations?
 
Mumbai is full of would-be dreamers, people who see and foretell their futures as rich, famous, fabulous, or fantastical.









As a city of dreamers, people often come to Bombay for a grand plan or a hope or a vision to be lived out, enacted through art, painting, story,
business, politics, or local discourse.



 
Mumbai is younger, savvier and perhaps less sophisticated, but more cosmopolitan and less conservative, than her sister city of New Delhi.

One of the magic things about Mumbai is

the chaos of the city--

its inter-connective social exchanges, night lights, honks and firework-filled celebrations--

is intoxicating.  

I become drawn into minor moments, 

on side streets or tabled amongst the frenzy of movement on larger byways, 

enraptured by individual stories, emerging like tiny sunspots, 

momentary and mundane,

insubstantial yet also larger-than-life.

Local street guerrilla-style art/ embodying the frenetic tension of the city/ peeled away in layers

Moments like these fill my mind with a sense of hope mixed with strength, pleasure twinged with sadness, and the knowledge of what is with the desire for what will be:

the woman who took her sari, wrapped it around her head, and quickly poured blessings and an offering to the towering tree at the side of the road; 

the white-bearded man in all-white, with cataracts on his eyes, who seemed to look through the souls of passerbys in silence as cement was carried, flowers were vended, auto-rickshaws competed for customers, and a tired woman slept on the street corner; 

SeaLink Bridge Junction, South Mumbai

the well-fed horned cows, sacred across Mumbai, who are lovingly fed greens and sweet things to keep them happy, adorned, and continuously blessed; 

the Muslim woman wearing a brightly colored head scarf covering all but her eyes while sporting a western-style jean ensemble that was tight, bright, and voluptuous; 

the chai wallah who supplies his thirsty customers with frothing, warm chai tea; 

the children who work as beggars and salesmen on busy, crowded roads; 

the flower man who capriciously sits by the soccer field, ready to catch the school children's ball should it veer in his direction; 

the vegetables vendors who stare you down, trying to decide how much they should over-charge; 

the kind doorman who seems to be lost in his thoughts; 

the old woman, small in stature, who somehow towers over the young men she chides when informing them of her wishes...  

All of these little moments embody Mumbai,
giving the city life, breadth, sustenance, and vigor.  

I don't think it is possible to be bored in Mumbai, unless, of course,
you forget to look around.

Balmy, Breathtaking Bandra: Summer Heat Peak

I think I can, I think I can...slowly chugging up the hill.

Did I mention that A/C is magic/wonderful/amazing/miraculous?  Because it is.   

I realize I am extremely fortunate to have access to unnaturally cooled temperatures and humidifiers that purify the inside air.  There is enough humidity that four separate gallon-sized water tanks fill up and must be emptied once a day from the sucked up water captured within the balmy air in our building apartment.  Once the humidity lessens, the air cools quickly.  

 I suppose that living in Charleston, South Carolina prior to moving here was excellent prep for humid summers.  Right now the weather in Mumbai is perfect, low 80s, but will continue to steadily rise and peak until we hit the height of monsoon season in mid-summer, when the clouds turn gray and rain emerges like stray packages plummeting from the sky. 

Pink and Purty ; )

Flooding, I have heard, is common between June to September throughout Mumbai, but surface streets are generally slanted so they can for the most part still be driven on through the use of a dryer, narrowed entryway.  [Note to reader: Oh, so if you are going to visit, better not plan for monsoon season.]  October to May, however, is goodly warm weather, with the height of Mumbai’s beauty in January and February.  The flowers now, however, are blossoming colorfully, and walking around the city with the slight bit of heat is entirely manageable if you are a warm-weather spirited sort.  

Walking about on a warm, sticky day with sounds of cars and bugs buzzing through my ears.

 I, for one, chose to do my dissertation research in Ghana, West Africa during the winter season while living in New York: I will do nearly anything to re-arrange my schedule to avoid the bite of Father Winter.  Yes.  So for me, in this moment, the temperature is perfect.  Ghana, comparatively, takes about two weeks to become adjusted to the heat index, accompanied by frequent realizations, upon finding a sporadic mirror, that sweat dropules permeate and park themselves above the lip, on the back, under the arms, and down the legs.  You may be thinking, hmm, that sounds hot, but really you get used to it after a few short weeks, and then sitting in the shade it grows quite 

comfortable.  

 Hot weather makes cold drinks taste all the sweeter, and the power of ice holds ultimate prestige within my book.  My love of ice is a particular American-bred oddity, one that I’ve found, when traveling throughout Europe, is U.S. specific.  (When you ask for ice in Paris, they give you two bitty cubes to temper a tepid soda.  I on the other hand pour my ice to the cup’s brim and then listen to the crackle of Diet Coke—a strange addiction!— as the ice sharply breaks.)  When I hear the loud pop of the ice melding with drink, I know I have done well in preparing my frosty liquid for consumption.  Ah, ice.  Perhaps I should move on to more important things, no?    

 

Sun-bleached laundry, air conditioners, and breeze-seeking windows.

An idea of the heat index, if you are thinking of traveling to Mumbai: 

Year-round weather ranges from about 16 to 33 degrees Celcius (or 60 to 92 degrees Fahrenheit): January is the coolest and May is the warmest, whereas July is temperate but is by far the wettest.

Here's a scale in case (like me) you 

forgot how to do the conversion rate 

from Fahrenheit to Celcius:

16 degrees Celsius is 60.8 Fahrenheit

19 degrees Celsius is 66.2 Fahrenheit

21 degrees Celsius is 69.8 Fahrenheit

22 degrees Celsius is 71.6 Fahrenheit

23 degrees Celsius is 73.4 Fahrenheit

24 degrees Celsius is 75.2 Fahrenheit

25 degrees Celsius is 77 Fahrenheit

27 degrees Celsius is 80.6 Fahrenheit

28 degrees Celsius is 82.4 Fahrenheit

30 degrees Celsius is 86 Fahrenheit

31 degrees Celsius is 87.8 Fahrenheit

32 degrees Celsius is 89.6 Fahrenheit

33 degrees Celsius is 91.4 Fahrenheit

38 degrees Celsius is 100.4 Fahrenheit

40 degrees Celsius is 104 Fahrenheit

            So, do you think you will be up for a visit? 

And are you ready to handle the magical, marvelous heat?!?

Ganesh, The Hindu God of Possibilities

Ganesh, the Hindu elephant god of possibilities

This is Ganesh.  Ganesh (or Ganesha) is the Hindu elephant god of infinite change, ultimate compassion, and the remover of obstacles.  Ganesh in his many forms is displayed throughout the city, be it in marble, plaster, bronze, wood, concrete, plastic, paper, or sticker form.  Ganesh is the Hindu god of Mumbai, celebrated and venerated as the maker and breaker of the city, the holder of secrets, the speaker of truths, the power to make things happen-- Ganesh, multi-handed and many-versed, is the spiritual embodiment to Hinduism of power, beauty, and miracle, holding out possibilities to rich and poor alike to be better, stand taller, and become the person they so desire to be.  Every year, giant depictions of a manifest Ganesh are paraded in procession throughout the city during the Vinayaka Chaturthi festival, a reminder of stability in the sea of frenetic urban life.

Offerings, meager and grand, are prevalent throughout the city

The city of Mumbai is teaming with multiple expressions of religiosity.  From the Portuguese influences of Catholicism in the 16th century to long-held Parsi (Zoroastrian) practices and funeral pyres, the cityscape is a melting pot of Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Parsi, and Buddhist archetypes.  As a cosmopolitan city Mumbai is home to what can be described as the amalgamation and summation of the collective world religions: from alternative healing methods, Ayurvedic  life principles, Kundalini energy sessions, hatha and asana yoga practices, meditative chants and singing, Muslim calls to prayer, the prayers of puja and the rosary--all echo and embellish the sounds and embodiment of the city collective.  Mumbai, like any commercial city, is a city of doing.  Unlike religious Hindu centers of the southern Indian regions, this central-western city is all about practicality: the ends justify the means, capitalism is king, and hospitality is key to successful, flourishing business.

An offering of marigolds embellishes this car

Prayer here does not mean that you are separated from the masses, a hermit in seclusion and sequestered from daily realities.  Being a religious practitioner here implies the embodiment of life itself: to breathe, speak, and engage the surroundings with vigor and surety.  To celebrate in community.  To pray for personal well-being.  To dream of familial betterment.  It is a hope, a prayer, a call, to be something better, to do something more, to stand for something that will last into future generations and life cycles.  Rather than separating religion from life, religion is enmeshed within the messiest, grittiest, and grandest of scenarios: it is to be alive and engaged with all that is around you. 

Peppers can be used to honor certain deities or to ward off ill-intentioned onlookers

 
Every pocket, crevice, and corner has surprising elements of devotion and attentive care.  Across from a pile of trash can be a food offering to a spirit, a ribbon wrapped around a tree trunk, an offering in a flower branch, a reminder of something, somewhere, that is sacred...

But, and this is a big but--
this reverence is not separate (or sacrosanct) in a way that delimits or isolates life practices from the day to day grind.  Sacred and mundane, profound and preposterous, pragmatic and monumental all combine in a way that I can only describe as melodious, intersecting harmony:
                                          congruous, multifarious, and utterly, tangibly real.

Market vendors in the early morning: the fresh vegetables look mouth-watering!

                                                      Thanks for reading!  Much love, c.

Trees, Flora, & Fauna: Getting to the Root of Things

Poe's Raven in Paradise

I love walking around Bandra to see what type of trees, flowers, birds, and critters abound.  Bandra is a Mumbai district to the north of the major hustle and bustle of Mumbai's city-center.  While it is not overcrowded, it is still active and full of energy as a vital living-working neighborhood.

From budding, fragrant flowers in hues of red, fuschia, gold, and white to giant weeping leaves lazing the day away, the plants in the Bandra area give life and vibrancy to the ambling streets, juxtaposed with the man-made lines of city buildings and market stalls.  The brightness and colorful character of the plant life is recognizable throughout the area and is honored for its beauty, majesty, and the giving of shade to sun-filled streets. 

The soft simplicity of a drooping flower on a balmy day.

Getting to the root of things...

                                                
                                                 Intertwined and twisty,
                       the roots connect, interweave,
         envelop and grab hold of each other, wrapping around each branching neighbor,
                                weaving from one side of the street
                                                                                      to the next
                                                                        like a choreographed polyphonic dance.


Buildings, walls, and street lights often adapt to and are built around spectacular rooted trees that were here well before human construction exploded across the city.  Because of this, it is not uncommon to see roots coming out of walls, or visible from built-in peepholes, or trees changing the shape of a side street or entryway.  
 

An offering is placed within the opening of a rooted wall.

An embellished palm that reminds me of a hula girl

This flowering tree towered a stream of flowers over forty feet tall.

   d                                                                  
The landscape here constantly amazes me.  Piles of trash and tiny hovels are set against the backdrop of grand palazzos and ancient roots, trees, and blossoming flowers.  The disparity and seeming paradox--the conversation between the rich and poor-- is a necessary part of daily interfacing reality.

Envisioning the Juxtaposition: Poverty Amidst Wealth

The simultaneous combination of what is hard and what is beautiful, who suffers and strives and who ultimately succeeds, 

is intermeshed and interwoven like the rooted trees scattered across the Bandra cityscape. 

   I will leave you with this final tree-consumed picture...

 and wishes that you may have a magical, lovely day.

Good morning, world!

The Land Of Speaking Doors: India Alive.

This door strikes me as regal and magnificent: fit for a king!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Walking about the city is filled with a trove of architectural feats, creative structural treasures, and intricate aesthetic details that show pride in work, meticulous craftsmanship, and the variegated personalities of buildings and  monuments.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yesterday morning I spent a few hours walking around town, ambling along side streets, and trolleying about... with the goal of finding something spectacular among silent moments of ordinary life.  There are so many pockets of breathtaking beauty...little pieces of heaven if you take the time and allow for the land to breathe.  

 

 

                                  Perpendicular lines cower in front of these architectural feats! 

Scalloped edging, lotus dome, iron web window: check, check, and check.  The tree enveloping the picture on the left looks like a voluptuous, dancing woman greeting the sky. 

 

Purple door: super check.  Why, you may say?  Pourquoi pas, I say. (Or, Why in the world not?!)  I love the bright colors that surround such seemingly mundane things.

The Kingly door in its corrugated iron zebra stripe surroundings....

The Talking Door: Mano-a-mano (Read: That's what she said!)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So glad you are able to share this journey with me!  Please feel free to comment, join the blog site follower group, or email me directly about anything you would like to know more about.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Namaste!