Eye-ball Level

Mumbai at the eyeball level is how my blog has been described so far.

I like it.

The first eyeball level experience is a cliché but one I have to talk about.

I don’t usually catch a taxi unless I have to because to me it feels like I am trapped in a tin on wheels, with 33°C heat pounding away. It’s a rickshaw or the train for me and the trains I adore. I usually receive an odd look from most Mumbaikers when I say this — many of them have never used the trains, either because of their car or because of it’s reputation.

The rickshaws.

It’s all about ventilation. Yes, the suspension is something else altogether and sometimes, depending on the speed, it can feel like I am on a rollercoaster. Regardless, with the heat in Mumbai, it is the best mode of transport on the road. Their is the veil element of the rickshaw too. Sitting in the passenger seat, the side of the rickshaw can act like a veil, I can see Mumbai but Mumbai needs to tilt her head a little to see me.

The trains.

I know I am treated differently when I get on the women’s only carriage because I stand out like a foreigner (or ‘feh-run’, as the Mumbaikers like to say). There is this perception of women who use the trains of Mumbai. They have to have an aggressive attitude in order to survive the journey, and I am not talking about surviving because of other men on the platform or in adjacent carriages. It is because of the other women, apparently.

During rush hour, Mumbai carriages are typically packed to the point where some passengers have their hands holding on to the closest rod, their feet (mostly) in the carriage and their entire body hanging outside of the carriage. Maybe this ‘space’ issue leads to the element of aggression these women have a reputation for. However, I have only seen this aggression against each other once and both of the women arguing looked more exhausted from their day of work rather than aiming to have a fight for space/territorial reasons. From my experience, the women on the carriage have mostly been kind and helpful to me and to each other.

Going back to my first Mumbai at eyeball level clichéd experience…

I was travelling to meet a friend and I was a little late. The sun was setting and the streets were unfamiliar and busy with mums, kids, couples and lots of traffic. I was in south Mumbai and therefore had no choice but to hail a taxi. The taxi-driver, middle-aged, wavy hair, in a white kurta, with a bright red tilak (a mark, usually worn on the forehead, done with power or paste), gently nodded his head as I told him my destination. I got in the taxi and I could instantly feel the beads of sweat beginning to roll down my back.

I complimented him on the music and so he turned the volume up by turning the dial. It was an old Bollywood song, black-and-white era, with Nargis in the film, a famous actress from the 1940’s whose birthday was being celebrated that day.

The sun was setting as the taxi drove me to my destination and I rolled the window down and listened to an old favourite Bollywood song whilst watching this city change from day to night.

I did not like taxi. I may have changed my mind now.