Saturday, June 09, 2007

Bombay

Muggy muggy muggy. Roadside sandwiches, boiled aloo wedges and smashed samosas. Two-four people of the lakhs that commute everyday, die. Local deaths or death by locals?

Excerpts from a mail addressed to ze mamas and the papas, and 'cc-eed' to a batch of cronies:

I've recharged my phone so you can may call on it if you like, roaming charges aren't as killing as they used to be.

Taxis aren't unaffordable, but distances add up pretty quickly apparently. I did typical tourist-y things yday. Went in all modes of transport: cab, bus, train. Even saw a tonga but let that pass; someone might have been getting married in that buggy, at the nice Taj hotel -- the one next to the Gateway. Lands end? Maybe. Anyhow. So, saw the Jehangir art gallery; naturally couldn't be bothered to go in, ditto for that aquarium on Marine drive, with the loud fish murals outside the place. Oh I even saw that parsi dairy. But I remembered your Rostam's kulfi place next to an agyari hang-out; turns out old man Rostam is dead, no progeny, no kulfi. QED.


I don't mind Bombay. The people seem more human ( I don't mean humane, no), and too busy to be bothered. I'm having an alright time. The weather, though, is the absolute pitts. Don't come here. Cotton may as well be polyester. I'm avoiding jeans, but nothing helps, except that the 'batti' never goes, apparently Bombay never has power cuts. This was news to me. I'm coping.

2 comments:

Yohan said...

That was...surreal.

I agree about Bombay weather. Was there for 2 years. Sucks around this time of year. Only between November and January is it pleasant.

But Bombay is efficient as far as transport is concerned. Local trains can get nightmarish - even the ladies compartments.

You on a tourist trip?

Nimpipi said...

The weather the weather! Isn't it unnatural to just have two seasons; humid and wet. I find myself craving for the Delhi dry heat, and consoling myself that it's ok to never want Greenland citizensip. That and I'm on a first name basis with cockroaches in this city. Thomas was awake and scurrying when we sobered back home in a chooch tonight.

Yes, sureal would sum up nicely the mind flux these days. Cried my eyes out after the post went up.

Not an all the way tourist trip though. Part random chhuti, part job hunt, part people rendezvous. All fodder for the imagination, and therby the blog.
Coming soon, The Bombay Diaries, sans vintage motorcycles. The locals the locals.
Watch this space.