Mumbai Part I - a trip down memory lane

I was filled with so much anticipation about returning to Mumbai as the Pune bus crawled increasingly slowly through the traffic of the Mumbai suburbs. Would I remember much?  Would it all have changed?  Would it all be so much smaller than I remembered from 40 years ago?  Would I be disappointed after so much expectation?  Finally, I was dropped me off at Dadar train station - not the most beautiful part of town - and caught a taxi to the Taj Mahal Hotel.  I have so many memories of living at the Taj when we arrived in the city in 1970 and I really wanted to stay there again, but I had dithered for a long time over the price before I finally said 'what the heck' and I decided to splurge and treat myself to a weekend there.  Let's call it my 50th birthday present.  And what a treat!!!

I'd read that after the terrorist attacks the Taj had implemented a lot of new security measures, one of which meant that you could only access the floor that your room was on.  Happily, that was not the case - not at least in the Palace Wing where I was.  Perhaps in the newer Tower.  When I was 7,9 and 10 I used to run around these corridors like they were my backyard, race the elevators up the stairs in the main hall and  probably made a nuisance of myself.  Last weekend, I got to wander again at length - although at a much slower pace.  Here's a little video (my first effort ever at video editing, so set your expectations appropriately low):

Bev, this one's for you:

Right outside the Taj is the Gateway of India.  Together, they may be THE major tourist attraction of the city  - and not just for westerners but for Indians too.  As usual, there were lots of police barricades and security scanners to walk through to get close to the GofI.  Needless to say, it wasn't like that when I was 10.

Because it is such a draw, the area also attracts a lot of beggars and peddlars of one kind or another.  For example, lots of guys selling huge light bulb-shaped balloons or these guys toting pretty good quality cameras and portable photo printers who will take your portrait in front of the Taj or the GofI.  

Baby in a hammock strung between two bollards

Digital camera & portable printer means high quality prints on the spot

Also, guys with a weigh scale who will weigh your for a couple of rupees.

The resulting scene is pretty intense.  The Taj, by contrast, is the lap of luxury and a sea of tranquility.  What a contrast. 

Towards evening, I headed for Marine Drive, a long crescent-shaped drive on the west side of Mumbai.  It's a great place to promenade, people watch and see the sunset - all things that seem absent or impossible in Delhi, which just doesn't have much by way of street life or street culture compared to Bombay.  Marine Drive reminded me a bit of the Malecon in Havana: similar street scene at sunset and art deco architecture a little past its prime.

Monsoon had arrived in Mumbai, but only in bursts - nothing to dampen my plans.  My Delhi friends asked me to bring the rain back with me but so far Delhi has been dry.  Next week's forecast calls for thunderstorms.  On the one hand, rain will be a welcome relief.  On the other, I expect, it will turn the place into a muddy mess.  

Sunday, I headed to the Haji Ali Mosque, a mosque built 200 meters or so off shore and accessible by pedestrian causeway - but only at low tide.  The causeway is lined with poor and deformed beggars and vendors selling prayer shawls and other religious things as well as the usual cheap souvenirs.  At the mosque, men can enter the beautiful silver interior but women have to look on from the side gallery.  By the time I headed back along the causeway, the vendors were already tarping their tables because the waves were breaking over the side.  I remember seeing the mosque from shore when I was a kid but I have no memory of ever visiting it, which is strange because it's really just at the end of the road we lived on.  Mark and Jim, if you are listening: have I just forgotten visiting or did Mom and Dad not go there for some reason?

Then I walked down Peddar Road to Sterling Apartments (where we used to live) and walked straight past the guards like I belonged there.  And then I explored the old lobbies, corridors, gardens, elevators, staircases etc.  If I'm not mistaken, the Birdis (?name?) still live across the hall from at 24B, judging by the directory in the lobby.  

There's still a ping pong table in the lobby

Palm tree in the front garden that was Home
when we played hide and seek

From there, I wandered around to Breach Candy Swimming Baths - another highlight from my memory bank.  We used to swim there every day after school and once or twice every weekend.  BC is very much a closed private club and doesn't allow day visitors.  I'd even asked at the Taj if they had some kind of pull there and whether they could help me get in but didn't any more.  With my swimsuit and a hotel towel packed in my bag just in case, but with low expectations in my heart, I approached the manager to try to talk my way in with some kind of sob story about how much it would mean to me to even just walk around the place again because it had been such a big part of my childhood and we had competed for BC at the Nationals in Delhi one year and blah blah blah.  In the end, it was a lot easier than I expected.  The manager, in typically indirect Indian fashion said "perhaps you have some photographs from then .... that you could send us for our archives."  As a matter of fact I do and I'd be happy to send them along, even though you know how faded colour slides from the '70s are.  So I paid a day charge of 300 rupees (a little under $6) and got to swim at BC again.  I cried a little.  On reflection, the fact that it was off-season and the pool was relatively empty might have contributed to the fact that I got in so easily.  Back in the '70s it was a whites-only pool.  Thankfully they've loosened things up now.  People of any colour are welcom - provided you have the money and, probably, the connections.  

The lounge chairs haven't change a bit in 40 years

After all that, I discovered I was sun burnt.  Oops.  A real farmer's tan.  So I hiked back to the Taj on the local buses, passed the beggars, peddlers and rag-pickers, entered heaven-on-earth and went for another swim.

Did I mention how much I loved Mumbai?