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The kindness of strangers
I realise these blogs are coming thick and fast, but I think as the shock of India subsides, and my access to internet becomes more patchy, they will diminish. Anyway, as you will probably have realised they are as much for my benefit as anyone elses'.
Today I needed to escape Colaba (the tourist bit where I am staying) and so I took a cab Northish, to the Hanging Gardens. I tell you, it was pure BLISS to be away from the relentless noise, grind and hubbub of the city centre. Just picture H&M's flagship Oxford Street store, at the end of a saturday during the sales. The shop has been ransacked, it looks like a clothes bomb has exploded in it; a riot of brightly coloured debris everywhere. The clothes have been picked over, tried on, stretched, pulled, they bear the deodorant, lip-stick and foundation marks of frenzied shoppers who have then discarded, rejected them, passed them off to the next customer. It is chaos incarnate. But there is also a residue of the excitement, a left over frisson of energy, and crackle of competition between shoppers; the satisfaction of a bargain found, the glee when the shoe fits, the top matches! Well, that pretty much sums up Mumbai for me. And whilst it is fun for a while, it can quickly get too much. Sorry, I digress.
So Kindness Number One: Basically I was in these gardens taking refuge from the noise and humidity (there was even a BREEZE!), when a small, older Indian guy dressed in shorts and shirt approached me and asked if I wanted a 'tour'. So I let down my guard, the immediate 'no' and avoidance of eye contact that has been my shield all week and agreed. And so it was that Pratap Chotani showed me the gardens, built on top of a water tank! He pointed out the beautiful scented flowers of the Gods Krishna and Vishnu. At the end I assumed there would be a 'fee' of some kind and offered him some rupees. He declined; this he said was his hobby. He asked only that I email him a copy of the photo we took together!
Kindness Number Two: Following this, I had set my sights on lunch at a place I ate with my guide on the first day, Swati Snacks. But on the way got horrendously lost. I was sweating buckets, struggling to cross roads, I saw only one other white western-looking person during the whole of my search. I resorted to taking a taxi; turned out he didn't have a clue and dropped me even further from my destination. It became a battle; I was determined to find the damn place. Another 30 mins of unsuccessful wandering later and it wasn't looking good. I started asking another taxi driver who looked at me blankly. Then a passer-by overhearing our conversation, came up to me; he told me where the place was and actually walked me half way there.
Kindness Number Three: I was relieved to arrive, but dismayed to find a queue of people waiting on the pavement. This place is seriously popular. My dismay is not because of the wait, but because I am alone. I will be taking up a whole table just for me; I am not 'good business'. Not only, shock horror, am I a woman on my own, but a whole family could be eating in place of me. How dare I be so selfish, so inconsiderate. I grit my teeth. This is what this year is all about; overcoming these kind of anxieties. I turn rational voice on; you have as much right to be here as anyone else, they are obviously making a mint, you are hardly going to bankrupt them (less rational voice: and I'll be really quick!) And I sit down.
Then joy-of-joys, two Indian women sitting next to me start talking warmly to me (one lives in the US and is visiting). When my turn comes and I am called to my table, they invite themselves with me. We are seated together in gorgeous air-conditionedness. They help me order; insist I try bits of all their food and make me finish every last scrap. They fuss and cluck over me like mother hens; telling me how to avoid food poisoning, what to do, who to trust (or mostly who NOT to) they even get me the number of the British embassy and tell me to register with them! After we finish the food, which was some of the best I have had so far, I reach for my purse and they stop me. They won't hear of me paying. I am completely gobsmacked and overwhelmed. Would this, could this, ever happen in England? I can't imagine it.
So that is today's tale; a story of the extraordinary kindnesses shown me, a foreigner, a complete stranger, without expectation of repayment for any of it. Today it seems, India likes me, and I very much like it.
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