Love it or hate it, Mumbai is a megatropolis unto itself, a set of rules for living unto itself and a set of rules for interacting with other human beings (being human) unto itself - once you've been there, even for a moment, you'll be tattooed with your own impressions. You can't read nor be told ahead of time how your experience will work out and I doubt two have ever been the same. Here's ours.
We landed, after a quite exceptional flight courtesy of Kingfisher Airlines, at around 9pm local time. The terminal was as expected, no Korean Incheon, nor Singaporean Changi, but functional and relatively efficient, provided you were at the front of the queue. We determined to take another prepaid taxi, erring on the side of expensive rather than risk the likely rip off should we attempt to calculate the fare-distance-travel-time ratio that taxis the world over function upon. Clearing customs with an official's wave we went to find our ride to Hotel New Bengal, lurking somewhere in the depths of Southern Mumbai and if the Expedia reviews and pictures were anything to go by, a nice springboard for seeing the city. Finding the cab was not altogether easy, determining who was legitimate and who was not required a little charade and a puffed out colonial chest. Once we found our driver, we then found our car. We'd travelled light, just two normal sized backpacks that between them weighed about 65Ibs, and two pieces of small carry on. The car could not fit them in the boot/trunk, nor did it fit me. The backseat to which I was directed was designed for children, not adults of the taller flavour. Corinne's lofty height fitted snuggly. After much debate about where the taxi driver should go with his fare we set off into Mumbai. I wanted to say we set off along the road, but that would be false as the road was not really there. It was, at one time, but not any more. Nope, what was there now was a series of enormously long potholes interspersed with the ocassional patch of flatter tarmacadam. Like much of our experiences in Viet Nam, the road rules were also fairly loose. You might remember that in Viet Nam the rule of the highway was one of size, the bigger your vehicle, the higher up the right of way priority list you'd be. In Mumbai the same does not apply. In Mumbai priority is determined by speed. If you are going fast, then you have priority over the vehicles going slow, that is unless the vehicle going slower is more expensive than yours, then everyone gives way, well, almost everyone. Taxi drivers were, how should I put it because insane nutters with no thoughts toward human life, would simply not do it justice. I think closer to the mark would be escapees from a school for Formula One drivers and Pol Pot. This would come to haunt us eveytime we attempted to cross the road. More of that later.
It took about an hour to arrive at the Hotel New Bengal and our arrival, though late, was greeted by a friendly gentleman, I think still a little surprised that we were staying there. We soon found out why. Hotel New Bengal was not the picturesque, newly renovated suite of rooms that we'd anticipated. It was probably awesome, 5 stars, in comparison to much of Mumbai, but the reality to anyone familiar with hotel accommodation around the world (we are now) it was a refugee holding station, a bombed out mix of wires, light switches, random staircases, a lift out of a 1920's NYC tennament building and a healthy does of paint holding it all together. The internet that they charged 550Rs/day for (that's $12) didn't work, there were holes in the wall, the AC sounded like a tuktuk with a loose exhaust manifold, the shower was cold unless you were a very early riser (fortunately Indians are not), there were rooks (black feathered evil looking birds) living in the space above the sliding front windows, there were bubbles of water beneath the paint, a leaking fridge, the queen sized bed in the Expedia description was two twins pushed together, with separate duvets, and to top it all, the phone didn't work so we couldn't even complain. I think the hotel was lucky though, we'd arrived there late and quite frankly, didn't have the energy nor composure to complain despite shelling out $63 per night, a very decent sum when you consider an excellent meal for two cost less than a tenner. In the morning things looked different, not the hotel unfortunately, it was still a complete shit hole, but the upside was that we hadn't been bitten during the night and the A/C hurricane did actually do a good job of keeping the room cool, nay, cold.
We decided to stay and use it as a sleep room, besides, we were in Mumbai, a city of 16.5 million, why would we choose to stay in the hotel room when the world lay outside. Oh Dear how delussional we were.
Here's our first impression, but you'll be really thankful to know not our last. Mumbai is a filthy city where eveything is broken, nothing works and yet still life goes on at a frenetic pace. We walked to the South, passing by some of the great architecture of the British Empire, buildings that if they had been maintained to any degree whatsoever since the British left after India's independence in 1947, would be a marvel in Mumbai. They still are a marvel, but only because nothing of note has been built since. Take for instance the railway station, Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. An extraordinary structure that rivals any station in the world for grandeur and scale. When it was built in 1887 it was breathtaking. Now though, it looks like it should be breathtaking but in fact it's just a dirty algae covered ex-breathtaking structure that trains arrive at and leave from.
We thought it was perhaps just this wonderful nation deliberately moving on from Colonial rule, like a middle finger to the Brits who ruled/settled the place for so long. Kind of a "who gives a crap about your fine buildings, your sewers, your roads and your rail network?". Sadly no, the only parts of Mumbai that are worth any mention are the pre 1947 buildings that are still standing, and the food - which by the way is awesome. Everywhere we looked the city itself was stagnant, crumbling into ruin, unmaintained, stinky and filthy. And when I say filthy, I am talking black filth, algae growing up walls, windows either missing or about to fall from rotten frames that would have been saved if someone cared to paint them. The pavements are a gymkana course that required skill and a special walk to navigate, assuming you could navigate them as the majority were either pools of water, been built upon by the homeless or had a line of cars parked upon them or were just too muddy to contemplate sliding through. The majority of Indian folk walk on the road, yes the same road that the F1 Taxi drivers use as a race track, the same road used by the rickshaws, the cows and the trucks. Carnage, you better believe it. In fact, the only thing I couldn't believe was that only 233 people die on the roads each day....that's die, not have an accident or get hit, but die. That's about 85,000 people annually. Determined not to be a statistic we set off walking along the road. We walked everywhere, to the famous Clock Tower, to St Thomas Cathedral, to the Train Station, to the Docks, to Horniman Circle (once called Elphinstone Circle - personally i prefer the new name), to the Court buildings, to Wankhede Stadium (I had to see that one for the name alone), we walked to the Taj Mahal Palace and Tower, to the Gate of India and to the cultural centre of Mumbai with the National Gallery, the Natural History Society and the Prince of Wales museum (now called something else with a tremendous number of vowels in it). It was the same Mumbai over, beautiful buildings approaching ruin, covered in algae and black soot.
This building stood overlooking a once beautiful plaza that served (still serves) as a parade ground for the troops.
This still actually tells the time, but is so algae covered that it actually has a some shrubbery growing on top of it.
Perhaps some bamboo will help. Notice the delightful foliage growing on the right hand side. That actually starts in the brickwork, on the second floor.
Perhaps some blue to brighten things up.
There are some really beautiful buildings in this one, can you find them?
And this fountain was to be found as a centre piece in the once stunning Crawford Market. Now though it makes a rather fetching backdrop to pineapples and melons - and why not.
From the distance it can look stunning, well, attractive.
But getting closer you have the same dereliction (note - artistic license has been used in the comparison of the last two photos)
So, you might be asking, is there anything to actually like about Mumbai. There is without doubt all too much to feel sorry for, however, Mumbai is a city of contradictions. Through all the squalour and filth, there is a vey human side to life. A life that orientates itself around three essential pedigrees. The first of these is money, earning it, getting it, obtaining it, whatever, money is the soul of Mumbai. The next is food and Mumbaikars love of tasty treats, both savoury and sweet means that any visitor is bound to have a culinary feast (we gained pounds in 4 days). The last is contentious. I don't doubt that anyone will say that religion is the number one facet of life for them, but in observational terms, it's number 3, might be number 2, but either way, it is part of the top 3. Religion is the glue that holds it all together, and sadly sometimes splits it apart. Religion is cleaned, is respected, is built worthy and maintained, it doesn't matter whether you are sitting in a slum or walking around Kemp's Corner, whether you are Hindu, Muslim or Christian, religion lubricates the lives of Mumbaikars and provides that cheery optimism that we found everywhere. Mosques and Shrines alike were well kept, clean lavish places and offered wonderful respite from the throngs of people who would invariably stare at you, not in any menacing way, just an overly inquisitive manner that without the thicker skin fashioned from the previous 6 weeks, may have made us uncomfortable. Corinne was very fortunate in this regard. I had prepared her over the past 5 years for the unreserved breast staring that was the daily norm in Mumbai. Bless her and her wonderful boobies.
Secular harmonisation is not always a bed of roses though, and as every country has found through the ages, when the lubrication breaks down, friction ensues. We were made aware of this when we visited the slums which I will allude to in a different post. Suffice to say that Hindus and Muslims live life in a very coexistent manner, underneath, lurking without purpose, is a vehamence that when it rises, leads to extremes on both sides. I quote from the Rough Guide in this next part, but I do so because I wish to add my own commentary at the end.
"The last British contingent passed through the Gateway of India in 1948 and since independence Mumbai has prospered as India's commercial capital and the population has grown ten-fold. Tensions due to the increasing numbers of immigrants from other parts of the country, and the resultant overcrowding, has fuelled the rise of the right-wing Maharashtrian party, the Shiv Sena, founded in 1966 by Bal Thachery, a self-confessed admirer of Hitler. Thousands of Muslim Mumbaikars were murdered by Hindu mobs following the destruction of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya" (the background for this is more than this Blog should sustain, but please look it up for impartial perspectives on both sides - essentially it started by the Hindus saying a Muslim mosque had been built on their holy ground, so they broke it down, with the Muslims then breaking their shrine...) After the attacks on Muslims in Mumbai "ten massive relatiatory bomb blasts killed 260 people". The involvement of Muslim godfather Dawood Ibrahim and the Pakistani secret service was suspected, and both Ibrahim and the Pakistanis have been linked with subsequent atrocities. These include the bomb blasts in August 2003 killing 107 tourists next to the Gateway of India, the explosions in July 2006 when coordinated bomb blasts simultaneously blew apart seven packed commuter trains across the city and most dramatically, the horrific attacks on November 26th 2008 during which a group of rampaging gunmen ran amok across the city killling 172 people".
Nations living beneath a cloud of potential terrorism can be strenthened or weakened. When strengthened resolve and optimism increases. Mumbai characterises this and out of the ashes of terrorism and decrepidation comes an economy that any city and any nation in the world would gladly welcome. Healthcare, IT, finance and back-office support has and is transforming the way in which people live. Oddly, I did not see wealth turn into beauty, but given India's past for stunning beauty, I can't help but feel that will come. I suspect there will be a gradual decline in the attitudes of Indians to living in filth. By filth I mean the ability for people to live with rubbish, with broken and failing infrastructure. It is odd that the general approach to rubbish it to throw it out of the window, drop it on the ground...there is no reference to putting it in a bin or disposing of responsibly. The offset is the assumption that someone else will pick it up, that is it not your responsibility. We can't tell you how many times we saw a driver throwing rubbish out of the window, a bottle, a wrapper, glass, plastic, didn't matter, as long as it was not in his cab, his car, his train carriage or his vicinity. While an act like that can have you fined up to $5000 in some US states, here it is the norm, and it shows, with rubbish everywhere. It exists in the grounds of buildings, the parks, the waterways, the pavements. Eveywhere you choose to look, there is a shard of plastic, a wrapper from a treat, a plastic bottle unclaimed, a solitary sandal or just a small pile of rubble. Once India motivates itself toward responsible living and the aesthetic pleasure of what it has, then it will be great. At the moment it is an ecclectic mix of economic powerhouse with a lot of people and some features of antiquity that are fading with commercialisation.
There is one element that embodies why India has so much potential to be a nation recognised as one of the most affluent and economic in the world, that's the slums. It is a separate post, it doesn't belong here, but prepare to be astounded in a way you least expect.
In conclusion to this post on Mumbai I have to say that no trip to India would be complete without a Bollywood experience. Here lies salvation.
Bollywood encompasses all that the Indian nation strives for, wealth, happiness (complete with distress), dancing, singing, music and laughter. We went to see none other than the acclaimed, and conveniently timed 1130am of Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara with the godlike Hirithik Roshan starring. You always feel you get value for money out of Bollywood with Lord Of The Rings timing of 3+ hours of viewing pleasure. Perhaps in the West we just don't have that sort of time to sit in a cinema, or the attention span of your average adolescent is too short, preferring instead Halo of perhaps a bit of Nazi Zombies. However, there is something very forgiving about long Bollywood's, a wrapper you find yourself being coddled in as you get more intimate with each of the actors and their plights. Though how plight is defined to your average sub-continenter is really a very western perspective to living and lifestyle. Perhaps that's why Slumdog Millionaire made it to the very top in all continents, it typified the life so well known by Indians. Either way, I yet again have my lovely lady to thank for the experience. I was willing to walk away when the metal detector at the entrance found my camera and demanded I relinquish either it of the battery. I guess they are prouder of their movies than I gave them credit for....a big demand on the streets of Boston for Hindi language Bollywood films!
