Bom Bahia

Perhaps the question all along was not whether I could call Delhi my home but WHEN I would call Delhi my home.

Raju met us at the Delhi airport after a protracted flight from Mumbai. The flow of traffic was brisk; we had a quick drive and were home in 20 minutes flat. How comfortable our own CRV felt, how familiar everything was from the baggage carousel to our night guard coming to greet us good evening. We were home.

Ever the trailing spouse, I joined David on another whirlwind of a trip to Mumbai. As usual, his day was full of to-dos, from a conference morning to an office inauguration pooja afternoon. I am learning to see cities on my own, without David's expert map reading skills and well organized outings. Armed with my Eyewitness Guide, my Nikon, and new found courage, I plan to see all of India!

We arrived Mumbai midnight Thursday. David warned me that the drive from the airport to the hotel could take up to two hours depending on the traffic. Fortunately, our drive took about an hour, partly because midnight traffic was lighter but more because we had a "video-game" driver, weaving in and out of lanes as though if we lost this life, we would have another one to keep us going!

Bombay (from the Portuguese Bom Bahia or good bay), capital of Maharashra, is India's most dynamic, cosmopolitan and crowded city.The city has now reverted to its local name Mumbai, from Mumba Devi, the eight-armed goddess worshipped by the Koli fishermen who were the islands' orignal inhabitants. The country's financial center and its busiest port, Mumbai is also home to the world's biggest cinema industry, popularly known as Bollywood. Although we did not bump into Ashwariya and Abhishek I am pretty sure they were also on Pali Hill Saturday afternoon as we lunched at Out of the Blue. Some 15 million people, from billionaire tycoons to homeless pavement dwellers, live in this teeming megalopolis. Mumbai probably has the largest number of skyscrapers and slums in south Asia, an indicator of the disparity in living standards of its residents. Its architecture is mainly Gothic in influence. The Victoria Terminus, the Prince of Wales Museum, the Rajabai Clock tower and the Elphistone College all exude a Gothic air. On the main road on the drive to Malabar Hill, homes stand, one connected to the next sharing a common wall. Their telltale Gothic windows and tiny balconies are witness to Mumbai's past. They stand side by side as though a house of cards where the ruination of one would surely result in the ruination of all!

Our hotel was located on Marine Drive facing the Arabian Sea (in an Internet ad our room would have been described as having a view of the Sea but in truth, a view was there only if you craned your neck and looked left). Hotel prices in Mumbai are more inflated than Delhi prices and I was shocked to learn that home rentals here are quite a lot more expensive than they would be in New York City! It had been a long day for both of us so we quickly settled down and got some rest.

Mumbai is a long, narrow promontory covering 430 sq km (166 sq miles) which juts into the Arabian Sea. Its downtown is the historic Fort area in South Mumbai, the city's nerve center with its best known sights. The day was already hot by the time I got to the Gateway of India, Mumbai's most famous landmark. During the heyday of the British Raj, it was the first sight to greet travellers to Indian shores; ironically, it also became the exit point for British troops after India gained independence in 1947. I walked around the landmark seeking a good vantage point for a photograph. With the monument's proportions and the fenced off area immediately surrounding it, it was almost impossible to get a good shot. There were touts aplenty. By now I have learned to speak a very firm "nahi" though that is often not good enough to dissuade them. A particularly persistent tout attempted to entice me to a trip to Elephanta Island. He claimed there was a very interesting Jain festival with a thousand men washing clothes. HUH! That I would like to see! But, no thank you.

The red-domed Taj Mahal Hotel stands behind the Gateway of India. It has been rumoured that this Taj was built by a prominent Parsi industrialist Jamshedji Tata who decided to construct it when he was barred from entering the "whites only" Watson's Hotel. The Watson is now a dilapidated building. I walked through the Taj and indeed, its fluidity and hushed elegance is its best revenge! What we can do when someone tells us we can't!

At this point, I must describe my driver for the day. A stocky well meaning man, he drove like a maniac through the streets of Mumbai. It might well be that I am not accustomed to the demands of the streets of this city but please, how fatalistic is he that he must include me into his daring assaults at death! Seeing that I was alone, and perhaps sensing my desire for shopping (which I believed I was keeping under raps), he insisted on taking me to a cottage industry store instead of the Wellington Fountain. His schpeel continued "very good store madam, just looking, ten minutes only." And again, a very firm "nahi" from me. All is well once again. He drives me to a fountain. I happily shoot photographs of this fountain and the wonderfully Gothic structures around it. The sky was blue, white tufted cumulus clouds were above. However, I later discovered that it was not the Wellington fountain he took me to! Aiyooh, we would say in Singapore!

I had my own shopping agenda. I instructed my video-game driver to take me to The Courtyard where an Abraham and Thakore was located. Once again, he drove me to HIS shopping place insisting that I go down and "have a look madam." I try and hold my temper towards people I don't know only because I do not know what evil they can be capable of. I raised my voice slightly and pointed at my guide. He took a quick look, headed out the car to inquire. He came back with a smile, and said, "same place madam. Upstairs, look." And what sign was upstairs? He claimed that the letters that spelt "Apsara" also spelt "The Courtyard!" "Bas!" I put on my fiercest face and repeated my instructions. The Courtyard is a string of lovely stores surrounding a garden. It was very pleasant, posh and inviting. I had barely began to explore Abraham and Thakore when David called and said he had time for lunch.

We lunched at the Leopold Cafe which my guide claims is a long time favorite for travellers and has a wonderful selection of multi-cuisine dishes. I suppose its read on the cafe was true enough. It just sounded much more enticing than it really was: a large, open but darkish hall distinctly refectory in feel. Servings were generous and admittedly tasty. Good enough for a quick meal.

My afternoon challenge was getting around Mumbai on my own. David had his pooja (and thankfully he needed the car and driver) and I had my shopping~and never the two shall mix! The sun was too high for photographs so I decided to explore Mumbai's shopping scene. I re-visited the Courtyard. To get to my next stop, I walked in search of a taxi with a gentle looking driver. I came upon one with a white haired old man as driver. You dilliwallis who think our Ambassadors are relics, have another think! This timeless Ambassador had carpeting on the celing with a twenty-four inch flourescent bulb installed on it. The meter was on the opposite side of the driver, outside the taxi. Does it therefore never rain in Mumbai? Not a bad ride at all for R20! I visited Ensemble, a rather chi-chi shop with a big assortment of sarees. My next Ambassador had black disco lights. What an unlikely adventure! I continued my shopping at the Oberoi then walked back to the hotel.

Dinner was at a charming restaurant called Salt Water Grill. Their menu is almost an exact replica of our Delhi Smoke House Grill. Cuttlery and other accoutrements were almost identical. Food was also consistent with its Delhi counterpart. Located on the beach, under a big white tent, a breeze blowing from the sea, dinner at the grill was perfect.

Saturday was a wet day in Mumbai. We drove around town seeing Malabar Hill, the Haji Ali Mosque, the Hanging Gardens. I squeezed in a visit to Melange, a chic boutique on Altamount Road. We enjoyed the azure coastline and were surprised by a rainbow. A slow relaxing day until we embarked on our drive to the airport. Once again, our indefatigable video-game driver took us to a mall where he said he could park safely. We wanted to have lunch and he wanted to park safely! And oh yes, Madam, "very good store, just take a quick look, ten minutes only."

Ah Delhi, how wonderful to be back!