Two months in Bombay, 2007

My time in Bombay that year was full of revelations about the country I came from and the city my mother comes from. My style has changed since, but I’ve left this written in the same Facebook note style I used to use along with -most- of the uh grammar…because hey, why not?

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ok ok i’ve been meaning to tell you about this..
from my cousins’ house, in the centre of Bandra “the queen of the suburbs”, I hear a ZiLlIoN sounds..I smell a zillion more other things, but maaaan.. so I’m going to come back here every time I smell or hear something new..
Just now, I heard a man scrape the back of his throat..I CRINGE when I hear this sound. Really, I can’t even hear someone doing it if they’re in the privacy of their own bathroom.It’s just one of those things, I think. it’s basically when someone presses the back of their tongue to the roof of their mouth in an effort to SCOUR the mouth of..phlegm? saliva? ahh i’m so bad with bodily functions, I can’t even say more at this point. This is a personal habit I can never grow accustomed to, much like licking ones fingers is unacceptable. Needless to say, a second date does not follow;)
Last night, I jumped out of bed in the throes of my insomnia..and I watched a cat limp across the courtyard, moaning. I had just played ear-witness to a cat scramble. It lasted a good ten minutes, with all sorts of foreign gurgles and shrieks…entertaining, at that hour.
In the morning, I can wake up and hear all the ‘wallas’ on the street…people walking around selling…whatever it is they sell: flowers, paan, little Christmas toys..if you can find something to sell, sell it..
Sitting on the terrace at my cousins’ , I’ll hear kitchens clinking with metal serving dishes, and I’ll smell the preparation for tonight’s meal..spices and the frying of masalas wafting through the air..Perhaps it’s the closeness of the buildings, or the bustle of every room that makes everything feel so in reach..I think New York and Mumbai must have late night trysts in some starry galaxy, ‘cause apparently neither of them sleep….
The streets here are abuzz with the hum of construction…These songs of drills and clattering steel are almost a testament to Mumbai’s growth..slowly, but surely, is how I see it so far. It’s not like Dubai, too big for its britches, where cranes make up the skyline..or maybe Mumbai’s just bigger and it looks more subtle for that reason..I obviously do prefer Mumbai to Dubai—though i do like Sharjah and it would be a close competition..[editor’s note: no competition, 2015]
As for smells, yesterday I got lost. I figure, the only way to find my way is by getting lost. I did have a problem though, as I kept coming upon the people who don’t speak english. I wasn’t desperate, but i found myself walking into dark streets with few people in them..haha..it was about 7pm..I figure my cousin has planned way too much for me to show up a bruised and black-eyed bridesmaid, so I shouldn’t get into any trouble yet..anyhow, there was this one point on the street where I walked past about 5 smells..roasting nuts on one cart, burning incense in a stall lit by a single candle, glistening and sizzling onions in the next, rotting fruit in the space in between, only to be followed up by a fresh fruit stand..where I asked, ‘Waterfield rd?’ and received the response, ‘eh?’ ‘ennnh?’..ahhhhh
Btw, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but it seems that the more money I make, the more I hate shopping..I hate it..I do love bargaining, though;) and I’ve posted a note on that thread in my other journal..
I’ve been writing some scraps on my comp, but it’s all very scattered..i’m pasting it in my LJ if anyone wants to read it (as some people have said they wanna know the gossip on my travels)-/\(☺