22 hours, a flight delay and cancellation, three
security checkpoints and a plane full of desis later I have finally reach
Mumbai, India. This city couldn’t be any more jam-packed. Cars, Vans, Trucks,
Carts, Buses, Taxis, Motorcycles, Bikes, and Rickshaws all share the same road,
which, by the way, has no lanes. So you can imagine the amount of honking that
goes on. I’m sure the automobile pedal braking business is booming here. The
city itself is absolutely beautiful. On the coast of the Indian Ocean with tall
buildings and palm trees, you would never know that you’re in a developing
country. I learned very quickly that you never leave your bag alone, not even
for a second, not to get a buggy, not to use the restroom, not to wait at the
conveyer belt in the airport, or your bags become subject aunty ji and her
smelly armpits who lay on your buggy and bags as if they were hers. I have
always detested that Indian sweat smell, yet I chose to come to the source of
it.
Nonetheless, my experience here has been nothing short of thrilling. The
constant honking and breaking in the taxi and car initially brings a headache
but later I discover that this is the Indian way of communication; instead of
signaling a right or a left, they just honk, it takes a lot less effort
although hard on the ears. Running in front of cars to avoid being smooched
into a pile of Premji mush, and squeezing through a crowd of 250 people in a
space meant to fit 100 has been challenging, but I'm up for the
challenge.
Random fact #2: Everyone who is younger than you here is referred to as “Bebe”.
So upon initially being referred to as “bebe” I looked up in pure confusion
until I realized the true meaning of the term.
It took this long to get this post up because I have not had internet at
all. Renee and I found a starbucks (where all the white people have been
hiding) that has slow wifi. Hopefully in Pune, I will be able to post more
often.
Until then,
Namaste!!!
