Message #24: Mumbai

(Message sent Tue, 05 Dec 2006 23:10:47 -0700)

Here's some advice for you for free: don't go to Bhavnagar.

After Palitana, the next places that I really want to see are in central Maharashtra state, a long way overland. There didn't seem to be much of interest to me in between, and rather than face the prospect of several days on trains, I decided to take the bus to the nearby city of Bhavnagar and then fly to Mumbai (Bombay).

Bhavnagar turned out to be a place with little to recommend it. I spent the morning wandering the city streets trying to find something of interest to see. The streets were narrow and filthy, and packed with fume-belching vehicles, and because there were no footpaths there was no choice but to weave in and out of the traffic (a problem common to many Indian towns).

There was a large object marked on the map and labeled only as "Tank (dry)." I made my way towards it, hoping that it would turn out to be an ancient structure of some kind. I eventually found it, and stepped from the horrid streets into the relative paradise of a park. The tank itself was a large rectangular walled enclosure, open to the sky. Perhaps it was a reservoir at some stage, but I have no idea from what era. Nowadays it's a park. However, no sooner had I stepped inside than a grumpy old man shooed me back onto the streets! I have no idea what the problem was - he didn't speak English and I didn't speak Gujarati - but there were other people there. There might have been some legitimate reason for kicking me out, but I think the guy just didn't like the look of me.

As far as I can tell there's only one nice place to be in Bhavnagar, and you're not allowed to be there!

So I gave up on Bhavnagar and retreated to my hotel room with a good book. Well, with a Dan Brown book actually, but hey, I was desperate.

The next day I flew to Mumbai, and the flight was an interesting study in contrasts. On the one hand the flight was the equal of anything in New Zealand - the plane was new, the terminal building was clean and comfortable and well-appointed, and the ground and flight crews were professional and courteous. On the other hand you got to look down on the acres of slums and shanty towns under the glide path on the approach to Mumbai.

I had originally intended to give Mumbai a wide berth, expecting it to be as awful as Delhi, but I'm really glad I came now, as it's really quite pleasant, at least in the district where I'm staying. The streets are wide and have footpaths, the traffic is bearable, there are trees about, and there are lots of clean modern restaurants serving a wide variety of cuisines.

My hotel is right on the shores of Mumbai harbour, and from the sea wall just across the road I can see hundreds of small boats at anchor, and further out five or six container ships and - something of a surprise - and even larger number of warships.

It's always hard to know what to do when a beggar approaches you. In my previous trips I had a policy of not giving anything to them. My reasoning being that, while I certainly think that the rich should help the poor, it should happen at the government-programme level, not at the personal level. But while stopped at some traffic lights in Delhi and old lady approached the car I was in and asked for money. She clearly lived on the streets, and her hands were so badly gnarled that she couldn't hold anything. I gave her ten rupees, an amount that means nothing to me but might have meant that she got to eat that day. Since then I have been giving out ten rupee notes to beggars whenever I have them to hand.

On my first day in Mumbai I had dinner with a delightful German traveller called Alice, who had an amazing dragon tattoo on her forearm. The conversation turned at one stage to the problem of beggars, and she said that she had a policy of buying them food rather than giving them money. Coincidentally, just moments after this conversation a woman approached me on the street and asked me to buy her milk powder for her baby. So we went into a shop and I bought her a can of the stuff. It cost 230 rupees - not a lot of money (about NZ$7.50), but still a big departure from my ten-rupee policy. Somehow, word spread, and by the time I left the shop another two women were waiting for me, both with babies. I tried to escape, but they scurried after me saying, "Please sir. My baby is hungry. No money, just milk powder. Please sir." How can you just brush past people in such dire need? And yet how can you not? Because of course you can give away all your money and you still won't stem the tide of need. What should one do in such situations? Sure wish I knew.

Mumbai's major tourist attraction is a series of rock-cut temples on Elephanta Island in the harbour. The ferry ride out there would be brilliant if not, once again, for the haze. Ships only a few hundred metres away are little more than silhouettes, and Mumbai city has long faded into the murk before Elephanta starts to loom out of it.

The island itself was a bit of a surprise - very hilly and covered in dense bush, looking more like a tropical island than the arid place I was expecting.

The ferries dock at the end of a long concrete pier, and there's a little toy train to take you to the base of a set of steps which leads up through the forest to the temples, surrounded on either side by trinket sellers.

And as for the temples themselves, wow. They have been formed by tunneling into an exposed rock outcrop in the side of a hill, resulting in a series of cavities six or seven metres high, leaving thirty or forty sturdy pillars to keep the roof up. In one place a shrine has been formed by leaving enough rock in place to form four walls with entrance ways, stairs up, two giant guardians on each side of each entrance, and an altar within.

The most impressive part is the carvings against the inside walls of the temples. They depict, so I am told, various parts of the legend of the god Shiva. By far the most impressive piece, and the one that takes pride of place, is a massive three-headed bust of Lord Shiva representing his three aspects: Creator, Protector, and Destroyer. This statue is an amazing accomplishment, and one of the most impressive pieces of art I've ever seen. And all of it - temple, shrine, sculptures - has been created by taking a mountainside and hacking out the bits that don't belong in a temple. Amazing.

And no-one knows for sure who built the complex or when or why! It is thought, on stylistic grounds, to date from around 500-700 AD, but no-one really knows. Here's the location, taken from the courtyard in front of the main temple: 18 57.837 N 072 55.879 E.

After visiting the temples themselves I spent some time wandering the forest paths. At one stage I saw a family of monkeys walking along a branch, mum in the lead, about five babies following along. Mum came to the end of the branch and launched herself into the air, landing on a bush below. One by one the babies came to the end of the branch. You could see them each hesitate, pluck up the courage, and then hurl themselves into the air, trusting mum not to lead them astray. And sure enough, the bush at the bottom caught them all.

Mumbai has a very nice public space in the form of a lovely wide white-sand beach. You wouldn't be tempted by the water itself, but the beach is lovely, and it's nice that the people have such a pleasant place to hang out.

Every place has its hazards, but one I totally didn't expect was the head-massagers at the beach. I was constantly beset by people waning to fondle my head for a fee. One guy in particular was most irate when I turned down his offer of a "first class" head massage.

There was an old guy on the beach selling peanuts. He had a big bowl of peanuts in front of him, with a small pottery bowl with a little fire burning in it sitting on the peanuts, to keep them warm. He also had a book on his lap, presumably to help get through the slow times in the peanut trade.

I said hi and gave him a ten rupee note. He kissed the note, touched it to his forehead, and then raised his eyes to the heavens. This is a common gesture, and I presume it's thanking Lakshmi or someone for the money. Then he opened the book, tore out a page, and formed it into a cone to hold my peanuts! After I had finished them I took a look at the page. You will be fascinated to hear that it was pages 29 & 30 of "General Science Digest: Standard VIII", and dealt with man-made materials.

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