Contradictions in Mumbai

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Our introduction to Mumbai (Bombay) was probably quite suitable and apt, though at the time it felt more like a stereotypical nightmare. Arriving into 41 degree heat at 7.30am, jet-lagged and hungry, our taxi driver seemed no more acquainted with the city than we did. At 25mph, he drove around in ever expanding loops, once threatening to drop us at the wrong hotel, several times refusing our gently proffered maps and directions, finally (after a three hour sweat-drenched jaw-clenched tip) on our eventual arrival, demanding double fare as his misunderstanding of directions had been "our loss".

The views from the taxi windows added confusion to our ire, as this vast city of contradictions unfurled around us. Leaving the airport, we passed tall glitzy Hilton and Marriott hotels, before plunging immediately into mile after mile of slums. Amongst the corrugated iron and mud shacks, however, strolled women dressed in the most vibrantly coloured and ornate saris, dripping in gold jewellery. Skinny barefoot children came to beg at the window whenever we stopped in traffic, their huge brown eyes sad and imploring as they asked for just one rupee, yet as the traffic moved again and (as we had been told under no circumstances should we give money to the street kids, as it only encourages their continued absence from school), though the kids were left empty handed, their faces broke into massive white toothy grins and they happily shouted "bye bye!" as we moved off into the hot smog.

Mumbai is full of such contradictions. The air is pungent, either with appetising spices or with piss. The buildings are ornate imperial masterpieces or crumbling shacks tacked tier upon tier on each other. The streets are a chaotic melee of old black taxis, autorickshaws and pedestrians pushing and shoving through the heat, yet there are regular oases of calm, stretches of grassy parkland where some play cricket while other quietly spectate in the shade.

The greatest shock for me, however, was to come one evening as we strolled home from Colaba, the bustling district full of tourists and locals alike drinking in cafes and shopping at the many stalls. Along MG Road, the main thoroughfare through central Mumbai, we passed a number of homeless people bedding down on the street next to us. And then we passed more. And more. Then an entire family of parents and four small children, curled up in a line on a flattened cardbard box. They, like all the others, had not a single possession next to them in their roadside sleep, not a bag, not a pillow, nothing. As we walked the 3 or 4 blocks back to our nice air-conditioned hotel, we must have passed close to 200 homeless people, just on that one stretch of road. After revelling in the ebullience of downtown Mumbai only minutes earlier, it was a sobering juxtaposition.

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Photos

Anyone for cricket?
The Oval Maidan, outside Mumbai University

Mumbai Sky-scraping Shacks
At the edge of Oval Maidan. Not sure how confident I'd feel about watching the cricket from one of those balconies...

Comments

[Louise Foxe]

Janey, sounds eye-opening. Have to admit, though, you use turns of phrase and words that I don't even know, for what most people would treat as a diary of fun! (Or something) You're WAAAAAAAAAAY too good at writing for it to be a casual blog. Turn it into a book (Dave, you might come in handy here). Lou x.