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Published: March 5th 2007
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Unable to get train tickets be were left no choice to board the overnight (and overpriced) sleeper bus from Hampi to Mumbai.
"Too easy" they said.
"Road is good. Not bumpy you can sleep. No problem. Only Only ten hours, faster than the train! Good for you OK". However, two hours into our journey all promises came unstuck as our bus ploughed into the back of a truck.
We all piled off the bus and investigated the damage - a smashed windscreen, mutilated front grille, and the clutch rendered useless. The driver and crew made frantic phonecalls back to the bus company while we milled about anticipating that there would be a replacement bus here soon to whisk us on our way to Mumbai.
But this is India, and the solutions here are a little different. The remaining shards of glass were promptly smashed from the windscreen and we were all directed back on board to resume our journey. The bus driver donned a thick woollen coat and beanie and prepared to drive on through the night. The speed of the bus was somewhat limited as the driver found that the icy wind racing in through the front of
the bus made is eyes water, and the bugs, dirt and dust filled his mouth. But he perserved on, albeit slowly, and seventeen hours later we rolled into Mumbai.
Mumbai is India's most populated city with a population of a staggering 25 million, making it the sixth most populous city in the world. Coming in we passed through the slums and were staggered at the poverty. Human shelters were constructed of tin, wood, plastic, old signs, cloth, cardboard, barrels, basically whatever materials are available. We saw women and young children scavaging through the rubbish piles looking for items that could be eaten, sold or recycled. The poverty is not unique to Mumbai, we've experienced it throughout India but somehow here when it is so concentrated it really tears at the heartstrings.
The elderly, the disabled, those missing arms and legs, grossly disfigured lepers who rely on the charity of others since there is no social safety net here. The children are the hardest to bear - dirty little ragamuffins, torn clothing, dust in their hair and covered with grime, wide eyes and big smiles, out begging when they should be enjoying a carefree childhood, playing with their friends
or going to school.
Most beggars come with arms outstretched to appeal to your sense of charity, hoping that you will give them a few rupees. In Mumbai we were approached by a one legged fellow who hopped up to us on crutches who had developed a unique approach to begging.
"Hello Sir" he trilled.
"You give me 500 rupees OK!". 500 rupees is a rather extortionate rate, as most would be delighted if they managed 20 or 30 rupees. Sensing that we knew this, he changed his tactic.
"OK Sir. Special discount for you. 400 rupees OK!".
Mumbai is a sensory overload. It's a cacophony of noises, a myriad of smells, and a startling array of sights. There's an endless stream of beeps and honks; loud Hindi music blasting from passing rickshaws; public service announcements and lottery numbers being broadcast from crackled speakers; shopkeepers yelling over the noise of the traffic; and dogs howling in the alleys. There's strong unmistakable stench of the leaking sewers; rotting rubbish and decaying food; and the sweet smell of spices being warmed in pans. Pedestrians take their lives in their hands trying to cross the street; motorbikes zoom past, often with
Big balloons
What on earth would we need them for? Perhaps to fly home to Australia if funds get low? two or more pillion passengers; biycles give way to rickshaws who swerve for buses and trucks, who veer for none but the Holy Cow. Cows are sacred to Hindus and enjoy their untouchable status, meandering along the road, crossing and stopping at will, and chomping on produce at their leisure.
In Mumbai we stayed with the delightful soft-spoken Swapan. Swapan was born in India's north and travelled to England to study architecture but discovered that his true passion lay with photography. He worked in London's fashion circuit photographing models for many years, before returning to India and settling in Mumbai's northern suburbs. Swapan was a delightful host and treated us as treasured guests. Nothing was too much trouble - from freshly prepared meals to hand drawn maps to aid our sightseeing.
We braved Mumbai's train system along with the rest of Mumbai or so it seemed. Rail is definately the choice for the majority in India, moving 13.6 million people a day over a 63,000 km network. The train arrived and was already overflowing but Dave was pushed on and spent two stations hanging from the exterior until he was finally pulled inside to safety. Suz enjoyed an
uncomplicated and roomy ride in the "24 hours per day Ladies Only" carriage.
We headed out to Elephanta Island which is popular with locals enjoying their cultural heritage. The island is home to a series of caves filled with carvings and linga, which were constructed by followers of Shiva. The boat ride there was long and uninspiring but from the harbour we were able to gauge the size of Mumbai's port, and had excellent views of the Gate of India (through which the last Bristish regiment ceremoniously departed in 1948) and the adjacent Taj Mahal Palace.
Back on the mainland, Dave discussed the cricket with the giant balloon sellers and vowed to buy the lot if India wins the World Cup. Outside the gate we rose to instant celebrity status as one elderly greying gentleman with jam jar thick spectacles invited us to pose in his photo, and several other bystanders got in on the act too.
We joined Swapan and 40 or so of Mumbai's
Couchsurfing community over drinks and snacks in upmarket Bandra. There was a mix of Indians and travellers swapping stories, networking and generally just socialising, with the Indians demonstrating their trademark hospitality.
Over the evening we met some great people including an environmental activist, social worker, actor, soapie writer, gym owner, fashion designer, internet music broadcaster, marketer and even a town planner!
Seeing Mumbai and life through their eyes made the city seem more human, and our thanks to all for sharing with us.
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Jacinta
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17 hours on a bus!!
17 hours on a bus - must have been a nightmare - at least you had beds to lie down on! Did you manage to get any sleep? Feels like you guys have been gone for ages! Keep having fun Jacinta