day to day

Our first trip in an auto rickshaw. These tiny three-wheeled cabs zoom around the city, weaving in and out of traffic, honking all the way.  Yesterday we passed one with 6 children squeezed into a back seat which barely holds the two of us.  Wild ride doesn't even begin to describe it!

  Breakfast with Roopa southern Indian style.  Here's we're eating idli, a dense rice/lentil patty that's steamed.  It's delicious served with coconut chutney.  

 

Dharavi--the slum tour

 Yesterday, Roopa called Fahim to ask if he'd take us on a tour of Dharavi, the largest slum in Mumbai and site of Slumdog Millionaire.  Over 1 million people live and work there, and it is the home to several major industries in under 2 sq.km within eyesight of some the most expensive real estate in the world.  It contributes over $1 billion to the nation's GDP each year.  We left the air-conditioned bubble of Roopa's car, stepped onto a busy street lined with trucks and piles of rotting garbage, and made our way down a narrow alley and into the belly of the beast.  Walking through Dharavi confirmed for us that we have no idea what is going on or how to make sense of things here--it's become a familiar feeling.  No photos are allowed in Dharavi itself;  these were taken from the top of one of the homes.  We scrambled up two tall ladders and emerged onto a thick layer of corrugated metal scraps, tarps and old plastic posters that were part of a sea of such roofs, stretching as far as we could see.  It was quiet up there, but I was happy to escape the heat and head back down into the fray.  Covered by overhanging tin and tarp, the pathways were far cooler and darker than the city streets.   In one passage, we skirted around men giving themselves bucket baths and dodged others heading to any one of the many shops, balancing huge sacks on their heads.  In the doorways, women sat combing their daughters' hair, and children, who seemed too small to walk, perched high on ladders waving,"hiya hi hi."  Doorways opened to small dark rooms where men--always and only men--operate sophisticated plastics recycling plants.  One of these shops makes and exports to China the machines that are used to shred plastic.  Fahim explained that the rag pickers collect scraps from all over town and separate them into piles of metal, cardboard, plastic which (somehow?) make their way to Dharavi through a complex distribution system.  In one room, a man stood over a flaming pit of melting aluminum scraps.  Next to him, sat molds, and outside, a truck waited to take the cooled ingots to another one-room shop somewhere else in Dharavi to be made back into cans or siding or who knows what.  We passed a bakery that produces and packages the crusty bread husks that are a breakfast staple here.  In the garment district, men hunched over highspeed--yet peddle--sewing machines making large caftans for export to South Africa.  Further on, a different set of shops dyed and stretched goat leather for fine coats and boots that will show up on 5th Avenue.  We stepped over open sewers and passed homes where women were scrubbing their linoleum floors for all they were worth. Deeper inside, aging parents and tiny children sat on rugs staring up at flat screen tv's mounted high on the wall above.  Women in burkas on cellphones sidled past girls in school uniforms.  In the pottery district, hindu women worked alongside their husbands stoking large kilns with mulit-colored scraps of fabric and sheeps wool from the other parts of Dharavi to bake the large clay water pots and oil lamps that are used all over India.  Fahim grew up and still lives with his parents in Dharavi.  He told the story of his grandfather who came to Dharavi from Gujarat by himself when he was 12 years old and worked for a grain distributor.  Later, he established his own highly successful grain business was burned to the ground during the Hindu/Muslim riots in 1992.  He went on to say that Hindu businessmen supported his Muslim grandfather in rebuidling his shop, giving him interest-free loans and encouragement to restart: "it's not religion that makes the trouble, it's the politicians." Fahim takes his university exams next month and hopes to do an MBA in Canada then return to Dharavi to establish his tour business "Be The Local Tourism and Travel" which will take folks like us into Dharavi, the Thieves Market, the docks and other spots that most tourists give wide berth.  His said his goal is to change peoples' hearts and minds about "the slum."  It certainly worked in our case.  

wall tiles, Dhobi Ghat, queen's necklace & Ghandi

Day 3-- We were up for the day at 3am and managed to hold out until 7 to go in search of coffee.  On our morning stroll, we came upon quite a few walls inlaid with tiles depicting religious figures (Ganesh, Jesus, Durga, Mary--all side-by-side) and our friends later explained to us that land owners install them to create a sacrad space that signals to the locals, "the gods are watching you, so don't even think of peeing on this wall!"

Dhobi Ghat is the city's laundromat--a mulit-acre, open-air facility that runs round the clock.  Somehow they manage to keep track of hundreds of hotel sheets, thousands of shirts, saris, jeans--you name it.  The surgeons' gowns were drying on the guard rails next to the six lane highway.

Men stand in cement water bins and beat the clothes against the sides to get all the dirt out.  Tough stains get the scrub brush treatment and extra abuse.

Here's a view of southern Mumbai's beach on the huge bay.  This strip is called the queen's necklace because the lights shine like a crescent of diamond at night

 Ghandi wasn't born in Mumbai, but he spent several years in his childhood here.  It's now a museum where his followers have recreated his bedroom complete with mattress, wooden slippers, fan, writing desk, and his signature spinning wheel.  In a framed letter Ghandi wrote to Hitler, he made a case for non-violence and respectfully--deferentially, even--asked him to stop the war.  His final line offered an apology should his request strike Hitler as impertinent.   

Day 2 and we have a blog up!

Here is the view out of our bedroom window at Roopa's apartment in West Bandra.  We have been up since 3:30 am with jet lag but that will allow us to head out and wander around a bit and grab some coffee.  We had a whirlwind tour of Mumbai yesterday: saw the American school were Cubas works, lunch at the Mumbai Cricket Club, then to the school's office down in Colaba and met the whole team and planned out our first week of work.  We just got Skype working with Erin and Rach...so let us know what your skype account is and we will give you a call.  xoxo