A Spring in India: Chapter One [Planes, planes...and more planes]
A Spring in India: Chapter Two: Meeting Mumbai
So, hi again! We left off last time discussing the endless series of flights leading to our final landing in Mumbai, India. As you may or may not know, planes in India generally don't have a terminal inside where you can conveniently exit the plane directly into the airport. One gets off the plane outside, and takes a shuttle to the main airport building. So, we did just that, and let me tell you, I did not need to open my eyes to know we were in India - I could literally smell it. Mumbai smelled like a strange mixture of car exhaust fumes and fishes, and the quality of the air was thick and humid like a sauna. It certainly wasn't the most pleasant smell I've ever encountered, but it was definitely...interesting to experience once more. On the shuttle itself, I yapped in English to my mother and a young man who was doing college somewhere in America actually turned around and asked if it was my first time in India, to which I promptly responded "No! It's my 6th time!"
We walked through the fluorescent-lighted airport and found ourselves outside, and it was the strangest site I had ever seen. There was a row with hundreds of people crowding either side. They were all holding signs like "Chadda Sahib" or " 'Flana' Hotel", and they were totally quiet, and all looked at us as we walked by. They looked they protesters, but they were merely people waiting for travelers to arrive; some of them were family, some of them were transportation-types, like cab drivers.
In the crowd, we quickly spotted my mom's cousin, Gurpreet Singh Bombay Waale (also commonly known as Rinku Mamaji) - he is actually a semi-famous raagi and has done kirtan at the Golden Temple. He was accompanied by his father, who I, as a child, called "Magic Masarji" because he used to amaze me with little magic tricks. A cab driver was there, helping us load our luggage, and for a full 20 minutes I had to stand there in the night, waiting, because Rinku Mamaji had a flight to South Africa for a kirtan programme, and my parents wanted to spend a bit of time with him before he left.
As soon as we were off on our way to my grandma's sister's house, I looked out the window, really intrigued by the sights around me. The night was thick with a haze, and because of the streetlights, the air was often a pink or a yellow, contrasting the shadows in the alleyways and through the trees. There was a vitality to Bombay, so much to take in, ranging from palm trees to industrial buildings to homeless people sleeping amongst litter next to dogs.
Speaking of dogs. Oh my. Bombay is DOG COUNTRY. On my way from the airport to my relatives' house (about an hour or so), just looking at one side of the road - I counted 120 dogs. Literally. And they all looked exactly the same, all a bunch of mutts sleeping, some of them in groups, conspiring or holding meetings or who knows what. Wow.
I knew that my mom's masarji owns an eggless bakery, so I excitedly asked him about it, to which he replied "It isn't eggless anymore, we use eggs now" to which I was sorely disappointed. But later I found out he was only pulling my leg.
When we got to their house in a town neighboring Bombay, called Ulhasnagar, at 2am, we were greeted by my mom's cousin's wife, Preeti Mamiji, and her absolutely adorable 2 year old son, Gurdev, who apparently was so excited all day that "two Didis" were coming over, and took a liking to us immediately. The family was used to going to the Gurdwara at 3 or 4am, so after eating delicious pastries made by Magic Masarji (he owns a bakery), we headed off there, where my grandma's sister (and my grandma, was already in India at the time) was already attending the divan. It was very tranquil there, a faint pink light glowing against the windows from the streetlamps outside, the kirtan hall mostly empty. I think this is the most beautiful time for meditation - early morning. I was rather tired, so I stole a corner of the hall and tried to rest my eyes.
But pesky, blood-drawing creatures interrupted me. Yes. Mosquitos. Before I knew it, my arms and face were puffy, itchy, and red from bites. A kind old woman there helped me, rubbing my kara against my arm exactly 7 times. When she was doing so, I was sort of confused, but actually worked, it really calmed the rashes!
By the time we emerged from the Gurdwara, morning had broken and I observed a couple of cats slinking outside the Gurdwara. We returned home in the calmest of spirits.
So, who did I meet at my grandma's sister's house? What else occured before we headed to our next destination in India? Stay tuned for this, and much more, in Chapter 3, and in the meantime, please leave your thoughts and questions in the comments, please! I would love if it was specific about this post.
1 comment:
Nice post....glad you had fun!
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