Mumbai/Bombay 20 Million Blues: Friday, November 20th!

One cannot hire a hand; the whole man always comes with it. -Peter Drucker, management consultant, professor, and writer (19 Nov 1909-2005) 

So I think the Muesli and hot milk sounds good. The You Tube video reminds me that I really should never have given up being a vegetarian. In the meantime I am caught up with the local organizing group getting ready to welcome 200 Syrians to Medicine Hat. Have a great trip. Love to you both.
 

Hello Self! Up at 7:00 am after tossing and turning for most of the night. Bit feverish as I think I was perspiring reasonably heavily as the duvet cover, at least on my side of the bed, and pillow cases were damp. My stomach felt a bit upset but no agonizing cramps even though I experienced the first few bouts of diarrhea of the trip. (Gives new meaning to the saying, coined by Jugos Dom Pedro: "Afraid to fart!") Poor Lady Darjeeling had an even worse night as her upset was even more pronounced and she was up from 12:30 am to well after 3:00 am, reading is the light of her mini-iPad, out of care and concern for me!

However, by morning, when I'd downed my Instanto, my tummy seemed to have settled. Not sure if it was something we ate before leaving Goa or something from The Food Inn, The Restaurant That Makes Good Food Even Better, a tiny spot frequented by locals where we stopped in late on the afternoon we arrived. For my part, I really enjoyed the three chicken dishes, (Chicken Manchurian, my selection; Chicken Tandoori, Cora Lee's choice; Crispy Chicken, Jugos' pick), and Lynne's Gobi, (cauliflower), Manchurian! Might even be the limes we bought from a street vendor as we strolled back to the hotel even though I always wash them in bottled water prior to using them in our nightly Gin & Tonics. Perhaps I should rinse them in the last of the Fenny I muled from Goa! 

At any rate, we were collected by our guide here, Yamini Oja, a lovely woman, and Ibrahim, our Luxe India driver for the duration of our stay here, at 9:30 am and we set off. First stop, (Not that far from our hotel, in fact, as Lynne and Peter had walked past it last night when Cora Lee and I returned to our rooms, after restaurant meal.), was the Gateway of India, a monument built during the British Rule in Maharashtra state. "It is located on the waterfront in the Apollo Bunder area in South Mumbai and overlooks the Arabian Sea.The structure is a basalt arch, 26 metres (85 feet) high. It lies at the end of Chhatrapati Shivaji Marg at the water's edge in Mumbai Harbour. It was a crude jetty used by the fishing community which was later renovated and used as a landing place for British governors and other prominent people. In earlier times, it would have been the first structure that visitors arriving by boat in Mumbai would have seen.  

The Gateway has also been referred to as the Taj Mahal of Mumbai, and is the city's top tourist attraction. The structure was erected to commemorate the landing of King George V and Queen Mary at Apollo Bunder, when they visited India in 1911. Built in Indo-Saracenic style, the foundation stone for the Gateway of India was laid on 31 March 1911. The final design of George Wittet was sanctioned in 1914 and the construction of the monument was completed in 1924. The Gateway was later the ceremonial entrance to India for Viceroys and the new Governors of Bombay, hence the name."

Since it was reasonably early in the morning we didn't have to wait to gain access to the large square in front of the monument, something Yamini said would have been the case later in the day. As well, Diwali is over and school holidays are coming to a close so there are not as many tourists and school groups about. Back into the van to stop outside the University of Bombay, "established in 1857 at the Fort campus, which is located near the southern end of Mumbai. It houses the administrative division of the university. It is built in the Gothic style of architecture. The Rajabai Clock Tower stands in the lawns of the campus. One of Mumbai's landmarks, it houses the university library. Based on plans by British architect Sir George Gilbert Scott and completed in the 1870s, it was modelled on the Big Ben. Businessman Premchand Roychand contributed monetarily to the construction of the tower. It was named in memory of his mother Rajabai. It is 280 feet tall, with five stories. At a height of 30 feet from the ground, there are eight statues representing the Indian castes." As a result of the 2008 Mumbai bombings. (This in the light of recent events in Paris! The Taj Mahal Palace & Tower, one of the hotels targeted, is just across the street from The Gateway.), security concerns mean that access by the general public is not allowed.

Back into the van to make for Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus, (CST), a UNESCO World Heritage Site and the historic railway station which serves as the headquarters of the Central Railways. Designed by Frederick William Stevens with influences from Victorian Italianate Gothic Revival architecture and traditional Mughal buildings, the station was built in 1887 in the Bori Bunder area of Mumbai to commemorate the Golden Jubilee of Queen Victoria. The new railway station was built on the location of the Bori Bunder Station and is one of the busiest railway stations in India, serving as a terminal for both long-distance trains and commuter trains of the Mumbai Suburban Railway." According to Yamini, over 6 million commuters pass through this station every day! Outside the station we were able to see both the statue of Pherozeshah Merwanjee Mehta, "born into a Parsi business family in 1845. Graduating from Elphinstone College in 1864 he passed the M.A. examination, with honours, six months later, being the first Parsi to have obtained a Master's degree from the University of Mumbai. He later went to England to study law at Lincoln's Inn in London. In 1868 he returned to India and was admitted to the bar, and soon established a practice for himself in a profession which was till then dominated by British lawyers. It was during a legal defence of Arthur Crawford, the first Municipal Commissioner of Bombay, charged with accepting bribes, that he pointed out the need for reforms in the Bombay municipal government. Later, he drafted the Bombay Municipal Act of 1872, and is thus considered the father of Bombay Municipality."

"He was known as The Lion of Bombay and even today he is a much revered man. He is respected as an important inspiration for young Indians of the era, his leadership of India's bar and legal profession, and for laying the foundations of Indian involvement in political activities and inspiring Indians to fight for more self-government. In Mehta's lifetime, few Indians had discussed or embraced the idea of full political independence from Britain. As one of the few people who espoused involvement of the activity of Indians in politics, he was nicknamed Ferocious Mehta." A little bit further down the street we could catch a glimpse of the white domes of The Times of India building, with the top of one of the many double-decker buses that one sees on the streets of this more than bustling city!

Back to the van for a short drive to another station, Churchgate, the Southern terminus on the Western Line of the Mumbai Suburban Railway, to observe the famous Dabbawalahs, (Dabbawallas, Dabbawallahs, or Tiffin Wallahs), in action. I for one, Dear Reader, did not know that a "Dabbawala is a person whose sole job it is to collect home cooked 'dabbas' - basically packed lunches - from the homes of office workers and deliver them to said office workers via different modes of transport. After the packed lunch - or tiffin - has been consumed, the Dabbawala will re-collect the empty box and take it back home to the person's residence. Each tiffin box usually contains two or three containers - mostly carrying traditional Indian foods such as rice, veg curry, chapattis and vegetables."

"Every day, about 5,000 Dabbawalas deliver a staggering 175,000 - 200,000 tiffins to Mumbai's office workers, using a colour and code marking system to ensure faultless delivery. In fact, Harvard have made a study of this incredible delivery system due to the fact that mistakes only occur at a rate of one in six million - all done without the use of IT and cellphones. There are many persons in the dabba chain between home and office - and the deliveries are made using a kind of relay system: A Dabbawala will collect around 30 lunch boxes at around 9-10am - he will then distribute these to other Dabbawalas at the train station dependent upon the final destination of the office worker. On the train journey into the city, each carrier can transport up to 40 packages on a long tray that they balance on their heads. At the main terminus at the other end (in our case, Churchgate station but also commonly Mahalaxmi or Victoria Terminus), the dabbawalas stream off the train at around 11.30 am where they re-group outside the station to organise the onward journey of the lunches. The onward journey is usually by cart, bicycle or on foot through the heavy traffic. An amazing spectacle! The journey is then reversed upon collection of the empty tiffin boxes."

The question that I could hardly wait to ask Yamini was why the office workers don't just take their own packed lunch into work, as is quite the norm in much of the rest of the world. According to her, for the majority of Mumbai workers, restaurants are far too expensive to be a daily solution. On the streets, numerous outside stalls sell different types of snacks for a few rupees but one is forced to eat standing on the pavement, typically in the middle of a crowd, knowing full well that sanitary cooking conditions are not guaranteed! Furthermore, with the diversity of Indian eating habits, it is very difficult to answer the specific dietary needs of each employee in a given work place. “Veg” and “non veg” are usually the only two options that canteens are able to give, without even beginning to address the different tastes based on religion, castes or geographic origin. By delivering each employee his tiffin filled with food prepared at his home, dabbawalas solve these problems.
 
As well, many Indian workers have to leave very early in the morning to make their long commute to work, before 7am at least. It is enough that the individual or the Indian housewife has to get up, get breakfast ready and send the kids off to school. The Dabbawala service affords wives a couple more hours to prepare their husband's lunch, cooking it and packing it, before it is picked up from their home at between 9am and 10am. Not only that, but on the extremely crowded trains of Mumbai, it means that workers can move unhindered, with both hands free to fight for precious space. Certainly not an inconsequential consideration, Dear Reader. Yamini told us that her husband has been threatened, on some trains, by fellow passengers who tell him that he must wait until just before the train leaves the station he wants to disembark as they don't want any other passengers to climb aboard! If he chooses not to agree they make no bones about telling him that he will be physically restrained from getting off the train and would then be forced to go right to the end of the line, if indeed nothing worse was to happen! Tough to be a commuter in Mumbai, don'tcha know! The service, according to one on-line site I found, costs about ₹700, ($14.14), a month, so approximately 65¢ a day for 22 working days as many people work half days on Saturday.

[Hi D, So crazy about the tiffins the whole time I was reading about the process I kept thinking why not take your lunch in the morning but alas I get it now.
Glad your feeling ok but poor mom hope she is fully recovered, make sure you take good care of her. Pictures are amazing, love you.]

 
Crossing to the station itself, via an underground tunnel beneath the busy thoroughfare, Yamini bought us tickets, (₹5 each, 10¢), to a station four stops north of Churchgate. Due to the temperature all the doors are wide open and large fans line the ceiling of the cars. One is asked to switch off the fan above one's seat when leaving, should no-one be sitting there.

We left the train at Mahalaxmi railway station to walk up the stairs of the station's flyover bridge to look over Dhobi Ghat, the well known open air laundromat, there. Dhobi Ghat is used all over India to refer to any place where many washers are present.The washers, locally known as Dhobis, work in the open to wash the clothes from Mumbai's hotels and hospitals. There are rows of open-air concrete wash pens, each fitted with its own flogging stone. Called the world's largest outdoor laundry, the workers reside in adjacent shanty shacks amidst the ever-present aroma of harsh chemicals and caustic soaps emanating from the nearby stone wash basins. According to a report I read, one family, (husband and wife and four children), live inside a shanty home adjacent to the facility, no larger than a standard prison cell. They sleep together in the corner on a thin blanket the size of a single bed.

As if this is not bad enough, the Mumbai Municipal Corporation officially owns the land and charges the dhobis for rent and maintenance. As well, MMC also retains the right to evict, with little notice, locals who are late in their payments. There are also frequent reports of corrupt collections officers demanding bribes and additional taxes from the workers, who live in fear of being ejected from homes and work stations their families have frequented for decades. Difficult to justify this as a tourist attraction, one which draws thousands every year, people just like us who come to witness the relentless productivity and cramped living conditions of Mumbai’s so-called "human washing machines." 

To assuage our consciences, we next visited Mani Bhavan, located at #19, Laburnum Road in the Gamdevi precinct of downtown Mumbai, the focal point of Gandhi's political activities there between 1917 and 1934. The house belonged to Revashankar Jagjeevan Jhaveri, Gandhi's friend and host in Mumbai during this period. A wonderful home, on a quiet, heavily shaded side-street, the staircases are lined with photographs depicting his life. On the first floor there is a large photo gallery where photographs, (from childhood until his assassination), are displayed along with press clippings and two, more than fascinating letters, one to Roosevelt, the other to Hitler! The room that Gandhi used during his stays is on the second floor. Here, through a glass partition, one can see two of the spinning wheels and floor bed he used. Must say that I felt much as I did when we visited Anne Frank House in Amsterdam. An extremely moving experience, providing one with more insight into this remarkable individual and what his life meant to India and all of mankind.

By then it was time for a bit of lunch so Yamini took us to a terrific restaurant almost just around the corner. Soam serves only vegetarian food and one of its claims is that it features "street food", food you would ordinarily only buy from vendors or at stalls of one sort or another. Since everyone was keen to try street food but all had been warned about the risks, we jumped at the chance to do so, given Yamini's assurances about preparation, hygiene, etc. Turned out to be nothing short of wonderful. We let Yasmini choose the dishes although we told her about the one both Peter and I were interested in Vada pav, a vegetarian fast food dish native to Maharashtra. Basically a simple creation involving a deep fried potato patty with some coriander and spices, the variation we liked the most was filled with fresh mint and green peas! We all had freshly squeezed lime juice with soda and I think I could live on both forever! What a find in terms of the restaurant and we probably wouldn't have happened across it without Yamini.

Last stop of the day was at Khotachi Wadi, a tiny hamlet located in South Mumbai’s Girgaum district. We were immediately reminded of our stay in Goa. As we wandered the narrow lanes of this heritage precinct, dodging scooters and motorbikes, all the while, we marveled at the old-Portuguese style houses which were home to Mumbai’s original inhabitants, the East Indian Christians. Most of the houses here are at least a hundred years old, are hand painted in bright colours and are either double or triple storied structures with high ceilings, large rooms, (Some we could see right into!), and often boasting old-style verandas. A virtual oasis of calm and tranquility in the city of 22 million which never sleeps, according to the Luxe India representative, Rohan Saldanha, who met us at the airport!

By this time it was close to 3:30 pm and The Gang of Three decided it was time to return to the Fariyas. I had neglected to charge my camera battery the night before and I knew I was dangerously close to runnin gout of juice so I capitulated to their dictatorial decree and Yamini asked Ibrahim to take us back to the hotel. En route, we discussed the plan for Saturday so looking forward to two markets and a museum, if not more attractions. Thanked our stupendous guide adn ever patient driver and waved goodbye to them both. Before heading to our respective rooms we made plans to have drinks around 7:00 pm. Both of us had naps, falling asleep almost as soon as we lay down, not even managing a few chapters of our books! I woke up around 5:00 pm, feeling wonderfully refreshed and started to work on the day's entry.

Unfortunately, Lady Darjeeling's sensitive tummy was still bothering her so she decided not to join us, either for pre-prandials or dinner itself, preferring to order some plain rice, shredded chicken and papad from Room Service while we knocked back a few well-poured Gin & Tonics in the Lighthall's room with an even better of the Arabian Sea than ours, given they have a corner room. Helpful young man at Reception gave us the name of a local restaurant, Bademiya, well-known for its kababs, so we strolled the wide Seawall, towards the Gateway of India, enjoying the vendors and garishly lighted horse-drawn carriages carrying tourists along the road parallel to the boardwalk. I'm hoping to start a franchise in Penticton, along Lakeshore Drive!

As it turned out, Bademiya was not much different, in terms of size and interior arrrangement, than the restaurant we'd eaten at yesterday afternoon. This didn't bother me at all as I tend to like these sort of places but Lynne was not overly impressed. Anyway, Jugos and I ordered a selection of kababs while lynne stuck with chicken Biryani. All to be washed down with Thums Up, made by Coca Cola, according to label, tasting a bit like a warm, flat bottle of Coke, but still a good cooling agent for some of the spices. The kababs were nothing at like we had expected them to be, not cubes of meat on skewers but flat patties, more like sausage patties. Still, tasty enough. I was delighted that food was served with sliced red onion and even ordered a second plate. Sharktooth Annie would have approved as she always wanted loads of onion. 

Had a brief conversation with the family at the next table, husband, wife, daughter and grandmother. I'd noticed the tattoos on the grandmother's hands and asked what they meant. Her granddaughter had just celebrated a birthday, (I assume she was 10 or 11), and according to her father, she had expressed her creativity by applying these temporary, traditional designs to her and her grandmother's hands. They were more than delighted to allow me to snap a few pictures of her living art. Have found that it very easy to strike up very friendly conversations in such situations most everywhere we've been. 

Wishing them well during the rest of their holidays we said goodnight and strolled back to our hotel, enjoying the soft evening air, not humid at all so most pleasant. Night street life was dying down and the vendors were busying packing up their wares although, ever optimistic, would thrust a toy or a scarf at us as we walked by. Found Lady Darjeeling still awake when back in the room. She'd found The Hunger Games: Mockingjay I, so I scribed while she watched. Once I'd writen as much as I could I had a quick shower and did my laundry! Feeling refreshed, I beaverd away at the GDD until about 1:15 am, (Lady Dar had said goodnight an hour earlier, and then read one chapter of my latest, Michel Bussi's, (Apparently one of France's most prestigious crime authors although I'd not heard of him until Cora Lee picked up this work.), After the Crash before my eyelids started to droop. Drifted off thinking about Ghandi on the balcony at Mani Bhavan, such a tranquil spot that it eased me into a blissful sleep.