The Infamous Monsoons

The monsoon season in Mumbai generally runs from July until mid September. It starts earlier in the south of India, travels upwards, and ends later in the North. When I was in India last year I caught the beginning of it in Kerela (South India) during my travels with Phoebe, Sophie and Winnie. However, we moved up North and then left from Mumbai before the rains really hit. I was hoping to get a glimpse of the rains here this time round but after the first full week had thought I had missed them.

I caught one down pour which lasted about 20 mins. The skies darken, the air is charged with an incredible energy, the city buzzes with anticipation. Then suddenly the sky opens and rain pours from the heavens painting everything a darker shade of wet. Some things come to a stand still. Vegetables are left out on carts without their vendors, motorcyclists drive off the rode and park, people gather and stand under anything from trees to pasty shop doorways, huddling to keep warm. The charge in the air and the knowledge that when it rains it pours and when the monsoons start you're helpless against the elements -generally sends a shiver of excitement through the city. If you're going to get wet -then you might as well have fun. The air temperature drops suddenly and mercifully, the layers of dust settle and almost instantly areas that used to be roads are submerged into lakes and rivers.

I've heard of the chaos that the monsoons can bring. Flooding in homes, on roads and railway tracks. If the trains stop in Mumbai, Millions of people are stranded as that many people rely on the railway system for their daily commute. Much of the city can be brought to its knees -a stand still. The millions who's homes are the sidewalks, streets, alleyways of the city are flooded out. Sickness and disease rise from everyday colds to malaria as stagnant water breeds mosquito's.

So much of India depends on the monsoons. With literally no rain at any other time of the year the monsoons make or break the harvest, the water reservoirs. Apparently the rains this year haven't been as much as they usually are. Reservoirs are low and water shortages are expected in full swing in around April and May next year. Agriculture will suffer -crops will dry out sooner and grow less. More people will go hungry when the time comes and the water supply wanes.

This year the monsoons have lasted a little longer those sparse as they may be. The thunder and lightening that accompanies the rains marks the end of the season as the charged air is not present in the beginning. The last three days it has rained pretty heavily every night at around 6pm. The first few days it only lasted for about 20 mins-an hour, while the day before last it lasted for about 4 hours. Jonathan and I were lucky to catch the transition just before it rained from my uncle and aunt's house in Bandra over looking the promenade by the ocean -Bandstand- from a 6 story building atop a hill. Here are the pictures. It all happened very quickly over the span of about 15mins. Jonathan has some before and after pictures he's post on his blog.











If you want to see any of the pictures on this blog up close you can view them at http://picasaweb.google.com/ninotchkasequeira/Kaleidoscope

snippets

Today is Eid -the largest Muslim celebration.

On my way to the bakery yesterday morning for some fresh bread for breakfast I saw a monkey hanging out on some one's eave's drop. My estimate is that if it stood on his hind legs he would probably come up to my torso.

Last night we went to a dinner party for my godfather John's birthday. Kimberly, 7 years old brought a basket into the living room with something inside that turned out to be a 3 week old pug named spiky. So cute.

The night before last we had another dinner party at John's house for his birthday. An evening full of food, drinks and laughter. Most of my parents close friends were there. I was the first child born in their circle of friends so I'm pretty well pampered by them. We shared some of our wedding pictures with them as they would have been part of the wedding if distance wasn't a factor.

Before the party kicked off we headed out briefly to a neighbouring society where a few friends lived, where the traditional Gujarati festival is currently taking place the span of nine days. They dance and dance and dance. It was so beautiful. They were clad in traditional Gujarati garb, colourful and full of tiny mirrors. The women and men danced in these heavy clothes in the society compound with a DJ accompanying them. Traditionally they would have a live band and go for 9 days and play into the night. However, Mumbai has a noise curfew at 10pm which is relatively (and selectively) enforced which drives the parties indoors or forces them to end early. Also, being in the city, this festival is often cut down to one or two nights as the society (the group of apartment buildings as I explained before) only permits them the space on those nights out of respect for the comfort of the other residents.

Our friend Jean who lives there asked one of the ladies named Merlin, who was part of the dancing to include us. Merlin stuck by us and patiently showed us the steps which were fairly introductory as they asked the DJ to play the slower songs so we could keep up. The music eventually speeds up and more complex steps are added as well as hand work with sticks which I've only seen in movies. It's all so beautiful -the way they move, the rhythm, the outfits, the music. Definitely the highlight of my time here thus far even if it was only 20minutes. We had to get back to John;s birthday party otherwise we would have stayed longer. And yes, Jonathan participated and danced beautifully -for those who might be wondering.

We spent yesterday visiting families from the building I grew up in before I left India when I was four. Some close family friends who we have kept in touch with. We had amazing Manglorian food which both Jonathan I are really enjoyed as it's very similar to what my mom cooks because my dad is from Manglore and my mom is from a neighbouring state.

We went to a tea party for an old school teacher of mine ( school starts here at the age of three so I had completed a year of school here before I moved to Nova Scotia). It was a very sweet party. It's tradition here to treat your guests instead of the other way around which is what we are used to. So after a huge lovely simple lunch we were fed more at the tea party. We danced a little, looked at pictures from when I was a baby, and played trivia/riddle games with the ladies from the society [i.e. What's the difference between a bull and a car? The bull has two horns and the car has only one. What country does a cook utilize in the kitchen? Greece.] It was hilarious and amusing to watch everyone so good natured and full of joy and celebration. It was great to see the range of personality come out of the women in a space where they dominated as there were only 3/4 men (including Jonathan) present.

We drove around Malad today with John, his son Bruce and their cousin's from Australia as we checked out some of the fishing villages and beaches near by. I'll post some pictures. I finally got to eat some sweet roasted corn -freshly roasted in a stall on the beach over a bed of hot coals and dusted with salt and lime juice.

Sorry my entry is so chronologically dyslexic -it's siesta time and I'm sleepy.

Below are some pictures -I recently added some explanations.


This is a fishing village near Malad. About a 10/15 min drive away from where we are staying.
As you can see these traditional boats float in front of the modern day Mumbai backdrop.

Mumbai's initial inhabitants were fisherpeople. Over the years of subsequent conquerors Mumbai's 7 islands were filled in and connected and it's native inhabitants increasingly pushed out by the influx of immigrants from all over India and beyond.

I didn't get any pictures because I didn't want to disturb the people, but you could clearly see the imprint of the west and capitalism within the village. Small shops have sprung up where old trading posts would have been. These small shops attached to people's homes are painted from top to bottom with Coke Cola slogans and images and the shops enable people to enact western lifestyles as the shops carry modern day unhealthy snacks like "American Style sour cream and onion Lays Chips".
As you get closer to the main part of the city you see more and more shops run by people who have immigrated to Mumbai from all over India in an attempt to make a life for themselves. The shops vary in their goods but all in all supply all the conveniences one could ask for. Most of the goods unfit for the once traditional fishing towns.
In many ways being the big city that it is, Mumbai is the land of promise. As traditional infrastructure, lifestyle and livelihoods like agriculture are increasingly left to rot all over the country and are invaded by capitalist venture and profit more and more people escape to Mumbai where industry and the promises of the West are closer at hand. But once here people themselves are left to rot on the sidewalks and those that can attempt to squeeze themselves in between the cracks and pockets of business in an attempt to live out their dreams and realize the promise the city claimed it held for them.

Jonathan snuck closer to grab some shots of the boats. A Mandir -Hindu temple- perches on the rocks behind him. You can be int he drabbest, poorest part of the city and always, a religious beacon -whether it be a church, temple or mosque rises above it all in splendid colour and grace.


Some of the older boats sunken into the shallow waters act as docks for the newer boats.

The old boats remind me of skeletons with their ribs protruding out of the waters.

Some street dogs resting in the heat

A church within the village. Notice the drawing of the boat and its sail under Mother Mary holding her infant, with the words Ave Maria on either side of the picture.

This is part of a fishing plant. Crates of fish that match the paintings on the wall.

Fish being walked back and forth between the plant and the ocean with an alter over looking the ocean.


Fish -possibly eel- drying in the sun.

A plethora of fish drying on the sand -and Jonathan's shadow impeding the process

I don't know if you can read the inscription -but its a prayer commemorating the reconstruction of a church built in the 1500's.

Goats by the ocean.

Jonathan hanging out with the goats

The remnants of the old church and a tour bus in front.
The name of the bus printed on the side: "Michael Jackson".

Crumbling away

Apparently there were some visiting priests (possibly carried in via the bus?) so a small celebration ensued where villagers lined up ahead for the feast.




Jonathan and Cheryl with 20day old Spikey.
widdle Spike

Exploring Mumbai

Tuesday September 15th 2009

Unfortunately we arrived a day too late and missed the Hindu Ganpati festival. It’s a ten day celebration where each home, society etc make their own statue of Ganesh. On the last day everyone walks their statues down in a parade fashion (uncoordinated by anyone) full of music and dance to submerge their statues into the sea. I’ve heard that the procession is so well attended that streets are pretty much blocked off and traffic comes to a standstill. The statues range from small hand held ones to large ones stories high. They used to be made of organic material like clay and plaster of paris and painted with similar organic material. However, as the modern day and age of consumption and status become governing factors in our lives the statues have taken on forms derived from more toxic material and paint. I’ve been told that after the festival the ocean waves and tides bring in scores of dead fish.

We have arrived in time for the festival of Our Lady in Bandra. Of the suburbs in Mumbai three of them –Borivili, Malad and Bandra – hold the higher concentrations of Christians. When people think of India they immediately associate images of the Hindu of Muslim culture with their conception. While Hindu’s make up roughly 82% India’s population Muslim’s about 12% it is understandable that people’s conception of India is primarily comprised of those two religions. However, what most people don’t realize is that while the Christian population in India is comprised of roughly 2.3-3%, it is 2.5% of over 1.3 Billion people –which in perspective is almost the entire population of Canada.

Bandra is probably my favourite part of Mumbai. It’s right near the ocean with a promenade that hosts tons of road side vendors roasting corn, fresh fruit juice, joggers and at night it teems with couples trying to relish each other’s company out of sight of their family and hidden in the anonymity of the crowds. Bandra is a very cosmopolitan –or rather western –part of Mumbai. It’s where many of the night clubs and cafes are with a piercing and tattoo parlour. It’s the hub of roadside shopping with stalls upon stalls stacked up in every little crevice and alley way running down Hill Road. It’s where the first McDonald’s and KFC opened. I find that what makes me feel most comfortable and at home with a new part of the world are the trees and the foliage. We’re spoiled in Halifax with multiple streets lined and arched with trees. When I lived in India about three years ago for 6 months I lived in Bandra for about 4 months. I remember the first day I moved into the apartment I lived in, driving up to it and feeling at home because of all the lush greenery. The ocean and the trees. That’s what I love most about any place and definitely what I love about Bandra. I also have a lot of history in that part of town. My dad grew up there and I spent quite a bit of time in his family’s home. My 2nd set of godparents live in Bandra, I received my first holy communion at Saint Peter’s Church which is also where my grandfather was buried and also where my uncle and aunt got married and made me their 7 year old flower girl. I’m excited to go back, to share with Jonathan and even more excited to check out this festival.

early musings: Greetings from Mumbai

Monday September 14th

It has been about a week since Jonathan and I have arrived in Mumbai. We have spent the week desperately trying to overcome our jet lag while Jon has additionally had to deal with his first bout of being sick. Needless to say we haven’t been out much.

We are staying in a flat of our own which has been so generously lent to us, in a fairly large and well off compound. We’re in Malad West for those familiar with the city, a walkable distance from my godparents. In a city where privacy is almost unheard of (unless you have the money to buy it, which the vast majority of Mumbai’s population does not), it has been great to have our own place. It’s a nice way to ease the transition not only from Canada to India but also as we transition from one stage of our life (finishing our undergrads, tree-planting, wedding planning) into our next stage with whatever lies ahead here.

Being a city of around 18 million, Mumbai is a concrete jungle. There are very few homes as most people reside in the multitude of apartment buildings. The few houses that lie dispersed within the city are remnants of a different life with a much smaller population. As Jon previously explained, apartment buildings here are often arranged into micro compounds called societies. They have their own grounds, boundaries, committees that take care of the upkeep and politics -mini neighbourhoods so to speak climbing upwards instead of outwards. While many societies tend towards attracting people of a certain faith, as far as I know, most take inhabitants of all.
This particular compound has a pool which our living room window looks out onto and which we are subsequently teased with daily. Apparently you have to be a member to use it and as we don’t actually live here and aren’t part of the society, we don’t have access to membership.

Our neighbours listen to amazing traditional tabla (an Indian hand drum) music every morning. I’m excited to take lessons once we settle down.

We have two small neighbourhood mandirs (Hindu temples) nearby which begin and end our day as they fill the air with the sounds of bells and horns during the various puja (prayer) offerings.

I’m glad to be back in Mumbai. Glad to have escaped the incoming cold months back home and eager to learn more about the culture here I love. I’m warmed to see familiar sights I’ve forgotten about and admire such as the communal lunch break the shop keepers and employees take as they sit on the floor in the meager floor space as they all share their food.

There are still many things to get used to once again. I’m slowly getting my bearings for figuring out how to cross the street again amidst the maniacal traffic. Totally almost got run over by a bus yesterday. Turns out, those things do not slow down. The smallest hesitation or misjudgement here could viably get you killed just crossing the street.

I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to being stared at as an element so evidently foreign and out of place to the locale. I buzzed my hair again before I left which is a dead giveaway. When I was here in January I very quickly learned the Hindi word for “baldy” as children would run out into the street and yell at me before they ran away and hid. Long luscious hair is a sign of feminine beauty in many cultures and in India this standard holds true much more extremely than in Canada, though western culture has its fair share of idolizing this feminine characteristic as well –think about how many times we’re fed the image of a biker or warrior whose female identity is revealed as she whips off her helmet and shakes her golden locks. Needless to say, unlike the ‘west’, it’s far less acceptable to have short hair here. When people meet me they quickly ask me about my hair. I’m often told that I should grow my hair because I’ll look much better. I’ve been asked ‘what happened?’ as if the short length of my hair must be an indication of an unfortunate illness. I’m slowly being worn down by the constant disapproval and have begun to wonder if I should grow it out. Thus far I’ve been keeping it short to avoid the hassle of taking care of it, of having to give shit about things like bed-hair. But perhaps the trouble I’d save by growing it out would outweigh having to take care of it. On the other hand, the rebellious side of me says fuck it. If it isn’t my hair, I’m sure there will be other things that the Indian culture will find to disapprove of whether it be that I moved to Canada and have grown up western, the way I walk, my piercing or my white, Canadian husband. Looks like I’m just going to have to get used to being on the outside here as I’m faced with people openly both resenting me and admiring me for everything that I represent whether I want to or not.

Oh India, you challenge me like no other.