Saturday, July 13: Mumbai

OK, essentially too tired to write out the fullness of yesterday, but it's been nearly eclipsed by today. This is why one should never let the blog lapse, not even for a day. Trying to lay all those bricks in a row: thematic, emotional, chronological, etc....it's exhausting.

So our day yesterday began at 8:00. We met the very polished, smart and engaging regional director of USIEF (US-India Educational Foundation) for Mumbai office, plus her counterpart from New Delhi. They laid out our next few days: so much to do and see in this robust, thriving commercial capital of India. It is jockeying with New Delhi for most populous, but I think New Delhi has the edge for now. Incidentally, we learned at the Mumbai museum later on that the Portuguese gave the city it's name. Mumbai (Bombay under the "Britishers", as so many people here say regarding colonial times) was originally 7 islands. On one of the southern islands the Portuguese established a port in the early 16th century (I am writing this without looking at an authoritative source, so some of my facts might be slightly off. I'm learning that happens a lot here, where people value more general estimates. LOVE IT.) The port was sheltered from the worst storms, was large and well-suited to big ships, so the Portuguese called it "bon/bom bay". And somehow the name stuck.

A few fun facts:
Mumbai has more millionaires than NYC, but it also has twice the population.
There are an estimated 8 million people living in slums in various parts of Mumbai, but I have been unable to verify that figure.
Our guide says the real estate here is insanely expensive, with a 100 sq meter flat going for $2500 (though I talked to a fellow today who says Paris puts Mumbai to shame in this category).

We visited a Jain temple first, Babu Amichand Panalal Adishwarji. We couldn't tour it fully because apparently tourists last year did not properly respect the Jains' protocol for temple visits. That stinks. For folks who haven't heard of Jains, it's the youngest of the religions (with apologies to the Baha'i faith, and we did not consult the Mormons on this assertion). It's about 500 years old. Hindus say it's a version of Hinduism, but the Jains claim otherwise. Our guide said Hinduism is a philosophy, while Jainism is a religion. Hmmm. Food for thought. What most people remember about the Jains is their stance on the sanctity of all life. They practice extreme non-violence. They don't kill insects (some even walk/ride around with cloths over their mouths to prevent accidentally inhaling bugs). They don't kill snakes or vermin. They don't eat tubers, onions or other plants grown in the ground because it disturbs life below ground too much. They don't eat eggs, meat, fish or any other animate life forms. They place great emphasis on rituals of purity, including use of sandalwood, a rare wood used in incense, making a yellow paste for the forehead (a third eye, our guide said). They don't believe in gods and goddesses, but they believe that god manifests in different forms. Therefore they worship 108 idols, several of which overlap with Hindu gods (Ganesha, for example, is a significant presence for Jains). They also worship gurus, spiritual teachers, including Guru Nanek who was the first guru for Sikhs.

Female devotees praying at Jain temple

Buddhist/Hindu/Jain symbol on gate at entrance to Jain Temple

The facade of the Jain temple

Many Jain devotees wear all white. Some tie kerchiefs over their mouths to prevent the accidental inhalation of insects.

Guidelines for visitors.

The interior of the temple

Making sandalwood paste by hand

A Jain idol

A doorway to the temple

Wendy S. making sandalwood mark at Jain temple

The temple we visited is 105 years old, in a swank part of Mumbai, up a big hill (Malabar Hill?) En route we drove by the 27 story residence of the Reliance (Reliants?) guy who is one of the richest men in the world. Helipad on top, movie theater inside, 5 floors of parking, etc. I read about it in the papers last year, smacks of tabloids. Ick.

We next went to the BDD chawls. I heard various accounts of what BDD refers to: British Development Department, among others. They are housing units built about 60 years ago for migrant workers coming into the city. The plan was that those people--usually single men--would work seasonally (or whatever) and head back to their villages. Instead, their families moved to the city and into the chawls with them. They are 1-2 room dwellings with a communal toilet and wash space. I guess you'd call them tenements, but there were fewer doors than you'd see in, say, the Manhattan tenements, perhaps because of climate and the need to share any breeze. We broke into small groups and got to go up into people's homes in the chawls for a visit and a freshly prepared snack. The highlight for me was watching our host prepare chapatis, a chickpea flour and onion dish whose name escapes me, a dry chutney and a rice-flour bread-bowl (think wide open, not like Panera). The whole space was less than 15x8, mostly because the kitchen tapered to a smaller space. But I'll tell you, some tasty food comes out of that kitchen! She whipped out chapatis in no time, thin and perfectly round (why can't I do that???) Her spice set included mustard seeds, turmeric, cumin seeds, and 3 other spices I can't remember, plus fresh curry leaves. And salt. The food was fantastic. We were enthralled and charmed by her hospitality. Where else could we see the inside of a home of this economic level?

Seven people live in this space, but most were out to work when we were there. The grandmother has a spic-n-span kitchen with everything stacked in an orderly way. They have electricity, running water (but again, no private toilet), and lots of company. What they lack is privacy and space. There was a sizeable shrine bolted in a corner on the wall, and a family member told me they worship at it every morning. We visited neighbors across the hall and saw that they were comparatively well-to-do (I said it looked like the Ikea of the chawl). Brightly lit, with a tiled shower stall and new(ish) appliances, this living space was much cheerier, if less homey, than the other. The daughter works for an American company, and her English is great. The parents both work too. This dispelled my notion that all chawl-dwellers were poor.

From there we went to the senior center where about 40 seniors sat knee-to-knee on the floor in their best saris. This was quite an affair as many wore their elaborate nose rings (called a nutt, I think) and fancy earrings. They greeted us outside with an elaborate ritual (pooja, perhaps?) whereby we each got a red dot, a gold dot and some rice put on our foreheads, just where a bhindi (sp?) would go. I am afraid I'm spelling that word wrong--the words for the dot on the forehead and the word for okra are very similar. We did not have okra on our foreheads.

We listened to music, saw some dance, and exchanged questions/answers with this group of seniors, mostly women. And that was a beautiful, lovely experience. We really felt the humanity of the race, not just Indians and Americans, but people. For me it was as much about interacting with the older generation as with Indians. And it was cause for reflection. I certainly don't interact with my community, particularly its seniors, very much. And maybe I'm missing something really important there.

Always marching to the beat of the itinerary and timetable, we moved off in the rain to a restaurant famous for its Maharashtrian food. We stuffed ourselves like...like, I don't even know what. There were small servings of veggie patties; chicken cooked in spice and yogurt, then fried; lots of cashews and chickpea/potato blends in bite-sized pieces. It was a bit like dim sum in that way, with waiters giving you a small portion of many foods. I should've quit well before I actually did. The okra (here called "ladyfingers", thus solving another mystery for me) was so good I pushed right through the inner warnings of "you've eaten enough already!" The proprietor was straight out of a Larry David TV show. He had tented business cards of himself, his accomplishments (MD, service on the Mumbai police force, etc.), his accolades from various organizations, etc. It was pretty over-the-top tacky. Then the waiter handed me a booklet that looked like a menu from a well-established Greek diner, i.e. at least 30 pages long. It was full of laminated articles from various newspapers mentioning this guy in some respect. Then he comes out at the end of the meal and gives us a well-honed, pretend-off-the-cuff spiel about, um, himself and his restaurant and his marriage and his mother, etc. Then he gives us a parting gift of envelopes full of advertisements for his other restaurants. And he directs our attention to a huge portrait near the exit of himself and his wife dressed as maharaja and queen. Oh boy. Really?

We went to the Dr. BhauDaji Lad Museum next, formerly the Victoria and Albert Museum. It has been fabulously restored and is now an elegant building featuring original cast iron and tile work from Britain, as well as elegant Palladian architecture and (insert fancy descriptor here) stencil detailing on the ceilings. It showcases the traditional handicrafts of the area on the first floor, then the different groups of early inhabitants of Mumbai. These the museum shows in figurine form, emphasizing clothing, religion, caste and other identifying characteristics. There are dioramas (for lack of better word) to show hunting, agricultural practices (e.g. planting and harvesting rice and sugar cane), an ideal village, and so on. I learned a lot about how diverse India has been for centuries, ethnically and religiously, especially. However, the meal we had eaten was taking its toll, and by the time we sat down for a documentary on the restoration of the facility, I had to struggle to stay awake.

The evening ended with inventive and delicious cocktails back at the hotel bar. My favorite was Grass, the first one I tried. I can't remember the ingredients now (it's almost 11:00 p.m.!) but I took a picture of the menu. It's a bit grainy, but I'll upload it over breakfast.

My stomach hit the Revenge button sometime in the early morning hours, and I felt like I'd swallowed a radiator. I'll spare you the details. Let's just say it was a triumph to be able to get out to run this morning. And that's where I'll pick up tomorrow.

Stay tuned!

BDD chawls, one section of many

Me and "Amma", our hostess

Home shrine

Rolling chapatis

The finished products! Indians are nuts about Fresh Food (not into leftoevers)

The local electrician sorting out today's problem with the hall lights

A spice "cabinet" that makes sense

Space saving strategies in a tight kitchen

The foundation of a monument at the former Victoria and Albert Museum

A street of Serious banyan trees

Sue getting welcomed by the seniors

Me and Catherine with our blessing from the seniors