Before even stepping foot in India I read and heard countless travelers relate how India changed their lives or was a very “intense” experience and “full of contradictions.” In the last two days two in Mumbai, I was able to experience some of that intensity. We arrived after multiple legs of a long 20+ flight from BWI to Heathrow then Heathrow to Mumbai. The reality that I am going to be in India didn’t really sink in until I saw Mumbai’s glimmering night lights from the airplane window as we descended to the airport. I was elated at the fact that I was the first of my immediate family to return to a land my ancestors left by boat over 130 years ago for British Guyana and even more excited my name was actually being pronounced correctly on the first try. I got off the plane and couldn’t stop saying and thinking “We’re in India!”
After getting our bags (I was traveling with Lisa-my fellow DrPH classmate and Colleen a Social Entrepreneur classmate who stumbled upon us waiting for our bags), we made our way through customs and immigration to find, much to our relief, the Novotel driver holding a sign—over 2 hours after our scheduled arrival of 12am. “Ahhh,” I thought, Indian Standard Time, IST at its best. We made our way out of the airport weaving through the dark Mumbai streets congested with parked cars and dotted with groups of men—just hanging out. No women were visible in the streets at that late hour. I was trying to place the familiarity I was experiencing in trying to equate the dark dilapidated buildings next to new construction in the midst of being built when we turned a corner and I gasped. My eyes caught a line of small bodies sleeping in the elevated medium under the overpass. The sleeping bodies of children, women and men stretched on and on. Lisa and Courtney both heard my gasp and after recounting my observation, Lisa said “Yep, we’re in India.”
Today—day two of our two week journey, a faction of our group met at breakfast and decided to find an ATM—a seemingly simple task. However, none of us were prepared for the sheer intensity of traversing congested sidewalk-less streets not governed by any traffic rules. Rickshaws and cars alike sped past or meandered around us without any inclination to stop—and crossing the street was even worse as we had to dart across large intersections where drivers considered stopping, optional. Despite these risky hurdles, we persevered, found an ATM and were ready to spend in Rupees. While on our way back in the midst of walking around parked cars and people just sitting along the sidewalk-cooking, eating and just standing, we encountered a man covered with a white sheet surrounded by flies laying in the middle of the sidewalk. He was motionless, and we were all perplexed as to whether he was alive. Although the thought that we may have walked past a dead man was disturbing enough, the city life seemed undaunted by this. No one seemed to notice this motionless body on the street.
The oppressive heat, broken by the rain, the poverty juxtaposed by modernity and the putrid street smells quelled by the aroma of spices and delicious food are unlike anything I have experienced and this is just day 2.
The Arabian Sea
No comments:
Post a Comment