Bleeding Blue

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The Indians are consistent at one thing, at least: being late. This time my bus was eight hours overdue on arrival. That meant I spent twenty whole hours stuck with thirty rowdy Indians. I must have been able to reach London and beyond if I added up the total distances by train and bus, in India. Another Ball-ache (excuse my French) was that every budget hotel in my Lonely Planet was fully booked due the Cricket World Cup Final being in town. Dazed, I drifted around South Mumbai trying to find a room. It took an hour and a half to find a hostel where the rooms only big enough for a single bed and a bedside table. After almost a whole day journeying from Hyderabad, it could have been a five-Star hotel for all I cared.

The following day was The Final. I could feel the excitement slowly growing as I drifted through the touristy area of Colaba. Every other person (locals and tourists) was wearing an India jersey or had the India flag on their face. It was very hard not to be caught up in the atmosphere. As in Hyderabad, communal screens were hard to come by. I decided to reside in the infamous Leopold's Cafe/Bar. This was one of the locations for the 2008 Mumbai attacks. They even had some bullet holes hidden behind framed pictures, on the wall. Tourist friendly, air-con, cold beers and passionate Indian support. What more could I want? When the game started, the energy from the locals was out of this world. Every wicket that India got was celebrated like a Football World Cup Final goal. The music was pumping with whistles and horns blown throughout. Some guys even started doing shots and ordering champagne after only a fifth of the game had been completed.

During the game I met two sisters from Cairns, Australia (Monique and Danielle) and a Brummie-Sikh Barrister with his Indian/Canadian brother-in-Law. The two middle-aged gentlemen did not mind flaunting their cash to the girls and I. Free drink, free booze and an all expenses paid for invite to their Five-Star hotel in North Mumbai, for the second half of the game. One of them said: "you've just won the lottery!". The girls and I couldn't resist. As the barrister fellow went to the stadium hanging out of his behind, the rest of us went to the hotel. What greeted us was thousands of wealthy Indian support around several giant screens, next to the beach. This had to be one of the best places, in the whole world, for this one game. As the game got tighter, the tension grew and I felt it too. Not one person was supporting the opposition, Sri Lanka. When the India captain, M.S. Dhoni, hit the winning runs with a six, the whole place erupted. The quiet waters of the hotel swimming pool were no more with many leaping in with pure jubilation. Locals ran around hugging everyone including ourselves.

If the party hadn't been occurring for the last eight hours, it certainly was now. During the fun, an over-excitable local shot off an air rifle, in celebration. An unfortunate American girl felt the full force of one of these bullets in her back. Not knowing who did it, dhe started accusing everyone around her in a hysteric manner. I was the first one to meet the full force of her anger. When she asked me I quite cheekily answered, "This is book club!", because I was looking for a nightclub in my guidebook. In her haste, she began hitting one of the hotel workers to get the manager. The poor hotel worker did not even know what the situation was. Very surreal and that was our cue to leave.

The sisters and I decided to ditch the creepy and seedy Canadian chap. He seemed very keen on feeling Monique's shoulders and back. At one point, he even asked if he could rub her feet. What a complete loser! Cabbing it back from the North to the South was a challenge. Every Local in Mumbai, and India in that respect, what out partying in the streets. I couldn't help but have a beaming smile on my face with the sight of pure joy of a whole nation. People were hanging out of cars, buses, tuk-tuks and motorcycles in complete joy. It made our 45 minute ride into a 3 hour trek. A terrific sight that I will never forget.

The following couple of days were spent with Monique, just recovering from the widespread ecstasy of The Final. In the evenings, we sat along the seafront promenade in South Mumbai, called Marine Drive. This is where Mumbai's cosmopolitan brand can be seen. The sweeping promenade curves elegantly around the sea. Tall skyscrapers from the business district light up the sky in the night, at one end, with intense darkness at the other, in the Indian Ocean. A very beautiful place where many locals come to relax listening to the sea gently crashing into the sea wall.

On my last day in Mumbai, we went for a slum tour. We visited on of the largest slums in Asia called Dharavi, where much of the Slumdog Millionaire film was shot. The difference with this slum from all others in India, is that this one is productive. Recycling seems to be the main industry, although there a many others. The area surprised me because people are not just sitting around in poverty but working hard in jobs, within Dharavi. Even though the living conditions are very poor and raw sewage trickling down walkways, it didn't seem that much worse than many places I had already been to. Essentially it is a mini, very densely populated city, where the living conditions happen to be be not great. The locals seemed to be very happy and cheerful when we walked past. The boys were especially smiley because Monique made the mistake of wearing a relatively short skirt. The area was a real eye-opener and showed how people can cope whatever is throw at them. Unfortunately, I was unable to take any photos. Apparently it was because the locals would be offended but it was only so we would pay for some after. Clever little scam since Mr Sceptic here even bought into it.

My last night in India was spent on Marine Drive, again with Monique. We took the risk of a slap on the wrist by bringing a couple of beers to drink. Apparently, a complaint was made by a local and the police threatened to fine us. It wasn't as simple as to confiscating the beers and throwing them away. These officers were out to con us. The asked for the equivalent of about £15 each and to leave the promenade too. This was a completely made up figure and summed up the police in India. They're like every other guy but with more power. We got out of the situation by lying and somehow we got to keep the beers.

That event concluded my time in India. A place I am humbled to have visited but happy to leave to see my family in Malaysia. It is definitely a place I could visit again in the future because India is such a big place with so much to offer. I have only scratched the surface but learned so much already. A top notch place to start and if this is a sign for things to come, I'm not going to want to stop.

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Photos

Taj Mahal Palace Hotel
Where the Indian Cricket Team stayed before the final