MUWCI
TWO YEARS AT THE HEART OF INDIA
MUMBAI
18-20 November, 2016
We had left campus at 5:30 am. The nine of us in a jeep to Pune, Swargate, then a bus to Mumbai. leaving campus
5 hours later, we had arrived in Mumbai. I was struck by the heavy heat. Pune and Paud were both so much drier and colder. Frenetic masses of people were crossing the roads as we attempted finding our accommodation. We checked into the hotel and Nehal then took us to Matunga, the South Indian neighborhood. The streets were alive, flower being sold everywhere, vendors yelling from across the street and honking cars. We went to have breakfast in a South Indian restaurant, apparently quite famous. The queue was rather long, and after 20 minutes of waiting, we were sat down. Nehal ordered for us. I don’t quite remember the exact names of what we ate. There were many different kinds of Dosas, masala, and amazing cold coffee.
We then took cabs to Nehal’s house. After a small bridge, on a small street lined with beautiful trees was her house. We walked up the wooden narrow stairway. We were sat down in the living room after meeting Nehal’s sister and mom. She had prepared fennel tea, and homemade chocolate almonds. After sorting ATM and money related issues, we hoped on a Rickshaw for our next destination. “Indians don’t understand the concept of street lanes,” Nehal said as we were driving. There seemed to be a general lack of any sort of organization, reason or regulation. The only constant was the honking, the relentless beeping, the riots of noise. Apparently, in Mumbai, one just honks for everything.
As we were driving through different parts of Mumbai, Nehal was explaining things about the neighborhood. We drove past what was called cholles, small houses or rooms which share common toilets. The colorful pieces of cloth were hanging from the balconies. The cholls were followed by crumbling building, British colonial houses.
After looking at the JJ. school or arts, we started walking, making our way to a market. The glorious chaos was mesmerizing. People were pushing, chatting, playing and simply living, completely oblivious to the chaos around them. I tried not tripping on the half-finished paving slabs, completely failed and ended up falling face first whilst trying to cross the road.
The poverty was very noticeable, far more than in Pune at least. People sleeping on the streets, masses of trash or the slums alongside the railroad tracks.
We had finally reached Crawford market, located in South-Mumbai. The market was predominantly indoors, though there were covered outdoor bits. Crawford market was impressive, offering things from fresh food, to live animals, clothes, dried fruits and fabric or decor.
We had stopped to take a break in a coffee shop to drink Faluga & Kulti, a milk drink with some sort of jelly, chia seeds, and Ice cream. After replenishing our energy, we went back into the market. More beautiful fabric, more vibrant colors and patterns and more people.
After another short cab ride, we reached the Gateway of India. It was just after sunset, and the orange light was illuminating the bay. There were tourists everywhere, which is why we really didn’t stay long.
We had gone back to the hotel, changed to then meet Nehal at Dadar train station. After buying our 5rs ticket, we walked up the stairs onto the overpass. Warm air filled with dust was slightly oppressive. The teeming crowd was immense, people pushing, showing and turning. Trying not to loose the other people in the group, I increased my pace. A minute later, we had made it to the right platform. Getting on an Indian train is probably an art-in-itself. You wait patiently for the people inside the compartment to rush out. Without waiting too long, you step into the train, and the locals will do the rest, pushing and shoving until you stand in place. There wasn’t actually any space so we clung to the entry door and looked out onto the tracks, enjoying the air running through our hair. Vendors were walking through the compartment selling snacks, samosas, earrings or cleaning items. We had gone in the ladies compartment, women chatting, squatting at the entrance. They were wonderful to look at, their beautiful and colorful attires, the thick and black shining hair, the gentle smiles and the curious looks seeing these five white girls standing beside them.
After getting off the train, we hopped on a bus to Santa Cruz market. Nehal was taking us to a theater performance. Prithvi theater was the 1st experiment performance space in Mumbai. Next to the theater was an old library, filled with second-hand books, dusty and old, and less than 2$ for a book. An old tree was growing inside the library, going through the roof.
After Daniel Bye’s ‘Going Viral’, we made our way to Bandra for dinner.
The next morning, Nehal met us at the Matunga morning market. We all went ahead and bought fresh fruits, dried nuts and other snacks to bring back to campus, before getting on the train again. We rode all the way to the Lower Parel and went to get brunch in a foreign bakery called the rolling pin. Stuffing ourselves with waffles in chocolate, we all came to realize how much we had actually missed western food.
After a few more hours of roadside shopping, street food, and sightseeing, we went back to Nehal’s house to get our back and took the bus back to Pune.
Mumbai had reminded me so much of Bangkok, in ways that maybe only I could understand. Funny how fast you can fall in love with a city!