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Our introduction to Mumbai was seen through the eyes of an expat rather than of a tourist as we spent 2 days with Ben, an American friend living there. As such we spent a day lolling by the swimming pool supping Gin and Tonics at the Breach Candy Club - a members club in the posh part of town overlooking the ocean. We enjoyed lunch at a 5 star hotel, danced the night away at some uber-fancy nightclubs, dined at swanky restaurants and Nick went to a tailor to get fitted for a suit.
This high living only served to highlight the life of contrasts lived by our friend and indeed that of the whole city and possibly much of India, with 42% of the country's population made up of families living in one roomed homes and the average ANNUAL income of 589 GBP. Deformed beggars would wheel themselves around on scraps of wood affixed with wheels whilst sitting outside the luxurious grandeur of the Taj Palace Hotel. Mumbai is home to some of the worlds most expensive real estate and simultaneously (and perhaps reactively) an astonishing 60% of it's population live in shantytowns and slums.
It was here that we met up with my dear friend Gina, fresh from completing her MBA in Milan and with whom we would be adventuring for the next 3 weeks.
Having just finished reading the highly recommendable novel Shantaram which is based in Mumbai, I was fully primed and ready for the city and excited to see for myself all that I had just read about in this 'factitional' epic. As the book centers on the life of a wanted criminal and the Bombay underworld I was, however, expecting to see a mafia don around every corner which might slightly have tainted my expectation!
Smog and traffic fumes in Mumbai have reached the esteemed position of 'worst ever' in my experience of smelly cities and within hours Gina and I were both proud possessors of chest infections which mutated in intensity over the following weeks depending on the levels of pollution in different cities. Unsuprisingly, in the moments of quiet on our many train journeys sandwiched amongst hundreds of locals, at least every second person has a chesty, disgusting sounding cough- likely causing all this dreadful hacking and spitting - that can no doubt be a result of living amongst the constant air pollution.
Though we didnt have much chance to do the touristy sighseeing bit ( which we'll get round to on our return visit before flying back to the UK) we did make it to Haji Ali Mosque at dusk.The mosque is peculiarly built on a platform about 300m out to sea.This was apparently the spot where the Muslin Saint Haji's casket floated to after his death during a pilgrimage to Mecca.
Walking there along a concrete pathway which, in monsoon season is only traversable at certain times of day, is a lesson in strength of heart and of stomach. The offshore breeze carried a tangle of scents from the heavily polluted sea as we jostled our way forward amongst the thousands making their way to mosque for evening prayers. To our left were stallholders selling their wares - everything from sunglasses & arabic movies to religious offerings necessary for the worshippers' arrival at their destination. To our right lining the entire length of the walkway were beggars who clearly made this pathway their home. Tiny semi-clothed children would rush to and fro between any possible donors and their mothers anchored to their particular positions.Groups of men sat, all missing limbs or with drastic deformations, looking up with pleading eyes. The blind, perhaps a leper or two ( I wasnt too sure but whatever their ailment it wasnt pretty) and those with mental retardations all gathered here. Of course the picture wouldnt be complete, as we were to witness everywhere in India, without public defacation in full view - between the rocks and the lapping waves.
After sunset, as the city lights brightly sparkled from shore, worshippers exiting their prayers deposited rupee coins into the expectant hands held upwards from their positions on the ground. Finally we understood - the teachings of Allah require giving alms to the poor so where better to beg than at the exact place muslims are reminded of their religious duties.Clearly the spots closest to the mosque were highly coveted places! We were heartened also, to see a food cart arriving that gave daily meals of rice to all those in need.
In complete contrast, immediately after our visit to the mosque we headed to a sports bar in the chi-chi part of town where Nick was able to watch Austalia thrash England in the rugby while downing beers and shouting at the TV. As we left the bar he was approached and offered a part as an extra in a Bollywood film shooting the next day. Having to decline due to our travel schedule was a real disappointment as it has been a secret dream of his to shimmy in front of the cameras whilst mouthing the words to the next Bollywood hit song. Fingers crossed he'll get another offer when we are back in the city!
Next stop Surat, 5 hours train north of Bombay where we spent a week with Gina's extended family and got to know a little more about life at home, in India.
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