Day One: Arrival in Mumbai

We drove from the Mumbai airport to the hotel at 230am local time, which is sometime yesterday in Chicago given the 11.5 hour time change. The smell outside was that of burning - similar to what I've experienced in other third world countries. The streets were pretty wide open and did not yet display the stereotypical traffic jams that I had heard quite a bit about prior to my trip. What was all too full, however, were the sidewalks. Marked with herds of people, the streets of Mumbai were crowded with homeless masses. There wasn't just one here or there; families huddled together and continuous rows of impoverished people slept on either sides of the street. This image made Cabrini Green seem pretty optimal.

It was hard for me to adjust to the right-hand drive vehicles and opposite flows of traffic (much less the aforementioned poverty). I kept passing cars and was repeatedly surprised when I wouldn't see a driver. But at the same time, it doesn't even seem like there are any drivers at all. The roadways are so congested since animals, pedestrians and porters carrying heavy loads of all kinds use them as sidewalks in addition to the cars, buses and an array of cycles. Coupled with the lack of stop lights, the equation results in non-stop traffic in which everyone flows together from all directions in a not-so-graceful manner. Read: continuous honking from every car, all the time. Honking, though seen in the US as a sign of frustration, aggression or heightened hormones, is not the same for Indians. Rather it is done more out of tradition and not from anger. They constantly use their horns to alert the menagerie of people on the street that they are a-comin'. It was like an auto-horn or perhaps set on a timer in case the drivers would forget to keep honking. The first Indian invention since they proclaimed independence in 1948: the Always On Horn. Though I am all for traditions, this one seems like it has run its course.

We began our morning by meeting our guide, Yael, and setting off for the slums. If by the sound of it you think that this area is downtrodden and wholly economically depressed...you've just hit a piece of it. Without any infrastructure, running water or electricity, the area and the 200,000 residents living in its tight quarters are hopeless. We went to a school that was started by a wealthy Indian businessman whose outlook was more hopeful. There are two classrooms that the school occupies - one for children 4-6 years old and the other for students 12-15. They operate at different times of the day due to the timing of varying domestic chores required of the different aged kids. Since the vast majority (probably safe to say 'all' here) of people living in the Kandivali East area are illiterate, it is a daunting task to convince them of the benefits of literacy for their children. Most are migrant workers, staying in the area for six months at a time before following the harvest further south. They follow the paths of their parents and generations before them, yet education is the only route their children have to escape the duration of their lives spent in their current environs.

We made our way back from the slum to a shop known for its iddlies. So good. I then bought a few kiwi from some hawker, which is what the Indians refer to as a street vendor, which there are certainly no shortage of. We continued to the main part of town, sprinted through a museum and then to a field across the street from the University of Mumbai where there were pick-up games of soccer and cricket. After tiring of this relatively quickly, we strolled down the Kolaba Causeway, a very small street market. After no luck trying to secure some pure silver elephant statues for cheap, we went to catch a few minutes of a new blockbuster hit in Bollywood: Jodhaa Akbar. It was really a cool experience. Just before the showing began everyone stood and sang the Indian national anthem. I just kept mouthing tarbooj (Hindi for watermelon) to myself since I didn't really know the words. We sat in the theater's balcony and kept trying to adjust to their awkwardly sliding seats. As one might deduce from the film's poster, this Bollywood movie was an epic love story, pairing a Rajput princess and a Mughal emperor. If that doesn't mean anything to you, just try to imagine it in Hindi. Despite the language barrier though, Yael offered her translation services when there was heavy dialogue and one could figure out the gist of it.

Finally we went back to the hotel and went to sleep. Awakened by the arrival of my parents hours later, we had a late night dinner at Masala Craft, a hotel restaurant which was very tasty. And Indian of course. My first full day in India felt like two, but nonetheless wholly enjoyable and exciting. Crescendo still building...