Hello Mumbai! Bye Bye Bombay!

I was delightfully welcomed to the city by my good friend and former colleague Partho Bhattacharya. Partho is a Bengali who has lived in Tech cities across the world for the past 30 years and was visiting the city on business for the week. It was too good an opportunity to have a hug so I high tailed it to the bright lights of Bollywood. Its been 4 months since I saw someone I know so the familiarity was so wonderfully welcome for this solo spirit.

As I got ripped off on my taxi ride from the train station I was keenly told that Mumbai is still Bombay to the locals so I learnt just like Myanmar/Burma it takes a generation or two of change a name. So for me it was Hello Mumbai, bring on Bollywood!

My intention to get to the Ellora caves and Ajunta inland from the city was curtailed with ill health. There is nothing like relaxing the body, for it to inturn go into ‘reject and sleep mode’. I was brought back to health with some antibiotics and good company. Only sad that I could not indulge in more of the local fare – although I sure did try and can recommend a few good spots from kebab feasts in Colaba for 2 <R500 (£6), the Punjabi Grill in Pheonix with exquisite Himalayan Gochchi mushrooms priced at a shocking £10/kg (to the staff at least) and a Bollywood hang out in Bhandarh (so cool it’s not on google!) with a fantastic ambience for the urban cliche.

I did have one final physical effect of the year on the road here in Mumbai. One of my teeth chipped off – whilst I was eating soup! Couldn’t be better timing I suspect.

Mumbai sites

During the rare monsoon rains in the cover of grey skies I enjoyed time at the Gateway of India, admiring the British Victorian architecture in the southern part of the city including the Raj Hotel the site of one of the Mumbai Terrorist attacks in 2008 and the famous (for anyone who has read Shantaram and any good traveller has sat through all 823 pages haven’t they?!) Leopold Café, another of the places that the attacks took place. And for that matter Victoria Station…I now see the logic of a terrorist. They like the places I see as beautiful and welcoming. A couple of days later in Pizza on the Marina my waiter told me his experience on the day of the attacks as a waiter in Leopolds Café….just shocking and saddening. His experience like many builds the hatred for Pakistanis in the city. It’s such a shame a few radicals tarnish the reputation of a people who in my experience are kind hearted.

The architecture in “downtown” South Mumbai is beautiful Victorian style stone works. All stunning but some how so foreboding in the monsoon light, unlike London or Edinburgh where the grey sky seems to illuminate the cities. But walking around on a Sunday is definitely recommended (just like Kolkata) seeing these great monuments to the Raj era.

Marine Drive is a stunning spot for lovers and loners to walk and idle along the reclaimed waterfront and for me a refreshing dose of fresh air after months being inland.

Seeking out some Contemporary Art at the seemingly obviously named Mumbai Contemporary Art Museum which instead was hosting the Indian Archaeological exhibition, with rather basic images of places like Bagan, Angkor Wat, Nepali temples in Patan and a pre-bombed Afghani Buddha (with no mention of its current state) all trying to draw out the Hindu influence in these magnificent sites, which I have loved on my travels. God was born a Hindu after all.  With this rather failed contemporary art appreciation I ended up across the road at the Prince of Wales Museum, with a little utilised audio guide and a sneak of some of Indians most stunning contemporary art (the Victorian Art collection along with most of the museum was under construction!). One image really struck me. Unfortunately I've misplaced my notebook with the artists name. The piece is of  yoga stretched toes holding the world with India at the forefront and the curtain being pulled back on her performance. It seemed to speak to me, along with some stunning works of mixed media. Tucked in a back hall of the museum the works of Lucknow embroidery were for sale so I indulged in the fabrics and was kindly convinced to try on my first sari by the ever helpful staff, who delighted in fussing over me and being girly with the strange foreigner. When I didn’t buy a sari I think they were more than crushed that I didn’t intend to wear their national dress at home. But it’s better than the secret I kept with one of them that if I had have bought one it would be for a wall hanging or furnishings. Blasphomy!

Like all of my favourite days on this Big Adventure I found my way to silk. Oh the silk. In a Mumbai block in alleys and laneways gridded with chaiwallas and merchants, I found my haven. Mangaldas Market. And the booty is packed in my bag with some fun creations to keep my spirit alive. The upcoming purchase of a sewing machine simply leaves me full of anticipation.  From meeting Kaka (tr. beloved old man) and hunting out stretch wool for a pencil skirt with the campest Dabawala and the most delightful gentleman in his turn. Where they wouldn’t sell me less than a metre because “what can you make with less than a metre”….bless. Amongst the divine sari silks, the luscious brocades and the smooth silk I know where my passion is. Question is how can I make this my life?

I spent my last day in Dharavi Slum on a slum tour which I would like to write about separately. In complete contrast after giving away all of my clothes I headed to the ubber westernised shopping mall Phoenix where (after washing my feet from all the lovely monsoon flip flopping in the slum) I indulged in familiar stores like Aldo (unable to buy anything as its all made in China – FREE TIBET!), M&S, Mango, Zara and Levis. Like most of my adventure it’s been about contrasts but none more than this last day. Alas I now have some threads to enjoy back in my home country appropriately attired.

Mumbai Train-sport

The fact that people drive on the left side of the road exclusively made me realise that Mumbai is a city unlike any other in India. Civilised and cosmopolitan even!

Taking a train in Mumbai is definitely an experience that is recommended. As a women there is an entire carriage for just the gals – oh and anyone in a wheelchair. We get grouped together as the weak here in India – feminists haven’t quite nailed India like the Tech companies have! I was pulled onto my first train by some bustling ladies and told to sit down, whilst I held on for dear life to the open sided speeding train (I was the one on the door holding on). I enjoyed a giggle being fussed over and looked on curiously as sales women came in with their wears of bangles, earrings, bindi’s and Ben Ten stickers, hooking them onto the hand rails as they hocked off things for R10 a piece (15p/30c).

In the suburbs a new Sea Chain toll road links the city over an impressive bridge which leaves many Mumbai cabbies confused at how fast they can actually move on an OPEN road! Partho and I enjoyed of an evening seeing the young lovers arriving on motorbikes parked overlooking the bay, with the girl sitting on the seat while the boy straddled her, in the most intense pashing I have seen in not just months but possibly years!!! Only in Mumbai people, only in Mumbai.

Curiously Mumbai has decided to restrict Rickshaws from the city. They are frequently found in the suburbs but a line that crosses a large junction near Dharavi Slum has cab drivers dropping passengers off to catch rickshaws manoeuvring through the traffic. The taxi drivers rarely know street names but landmarks are the essential element to successful travel.

Then one night I caught a ride with a chap around my age who took me some 30 minutes direct to my hotel (a cheap one in Colaba in a leafy street that no cabby would know in even my estimation) using his indicators throughout the ride. Let’s just say he got a healthy tip for being the best damn driver Permitted in All India.

Bombay Spirit

It was a delight to be in Bombay. The people were friendly, relaxed and it was just easy and hassle free (impressive for a white woman to say in India). It really is the city people come to have their dreams come true. After my time in the ever industrious Dharavi Slum and in the streets of the city I can see people work very hard to make it true. The city has the most extreme diversity with the rudest rich people with the fattest bellies to the skinniest of skinny street urchins. I saw a man with Elephantitis and woman with such fair skin I thought she was European. I saw children washing their bums with bucket water on the road side, and hungry widows with upturned hands (opportunely I had bananas in my bag to give). There are sharply turned out business savvy executives and elegantly dressed housewives, eager school children and happy fasting Muslims observing Ramadan. In my unexpectedly long stay in Bombay I feel like I saw it. 

Next time I will check out a  Bollywood film to see what all the hoppla is about!