Showing posts with label Mumbai. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mumbai. Show all posts

Monday, 2 July 2012

Mumbai Part II - how the other half lives

The Mumbai trip wasn’t all fun and games.  After all, I was there to research Mumbai’s second hand mobile phone culture and its e-waste (electronic waste) recycling shops (both official and unofficial ones).  In India, waste isn’t collected by municipal garbage collectors or trucked off to the landfill in Michigan like it is in Canada.  Traditionally, garbage here is collected and sorted at the neighbourhood level by rag-pickers and then sold up to various scrap dealers who aggregate and sell even further up the food chain.  I read that waste isn’t seen as waste here but as a ‘fringe commodity’ with commodity value to somebody.  And, therefore, very little actually ever goes to landfill.  Just about everything gets re-used for something: broken down things get repaired and re-sold, materials get sold and recycled, food scraps get fed to the goats/dogs/cows on the streets.  And most of what is left gets burned.  So in this unofficial and unorganized waste-handling context, it was only natural that when electronic waste came on stream in recent decades, it would be handled in the same way as all the rest of the waste.  The problem is, unofficial sector as well.  Part of what I am studying has to do with the ballooning volume of computer waste in India, especially mobile phone waste.  The other part of what I’m studying is the second hand phone market; who uses old second hand phones, who repairs them, who re-sells them, who makes knock-offs, who shares them, what they are good for, why the life-span of a mobile phone is so much longer here than in the west.  In other words, mobile phone culture is a lot more complex here than in the west, and that’s what I’m researching.

In Mumbai, this meant visiting Manesh Market, Mumbai’s second hand phone market, and some unofficial electronic scrap shops and interviewing people – people who almost certainly don’t speak English – and definitely getting off the tourist track.  In fact I didn’t even have complete addresses for some of the places I wanted to go.  Time to hire a guide/translator.  As it happens, the (good ol’) Taj lined up this fellow, Ram, who turned out to be a great fit for my interests.  He was interested in the environmental and organic food movements.  He even lined up a last minute meeting with one of Mumbai’s few official e-waste recycling companies because he’d visited them before.  What are the odds of that. 

Ram, my leader
So off we went, by Mumbai commuter train to the Andheri area to the north.  

It's a man's world on the trains
Ram made a call and got a meeting at Eco-Reco (the e-recycling company).  Then, armed with only a partial description of location, he found Teen no. Khadi (Hill no. 3) in the Saki Naka slum area and we interviewed people in one computer scrap shop.  Next, we headed down to see all the recycling (cars, plastic, furniture, cans, bottles, you name it) in Dharavi slum.  Way back in one of my first blogs I mentioned the film Salaam Bombay, with respect to a street-kids shelter that I visited called the Salaam Baalak Trust.  Well Dharavi is where Salaam Bombay was shot.  In Both Dharavi and Saki Naka, it seemed like the entire neighbourhood was involved in scrap of one kind or another.  I know it’s not as simple as that, but the scale of the garbage recycling activities is staggering.  Seemed like the streets were full of hand carts, bullock carts, lorries and bicycle rickshaws all hauling stuff this way and that; and inside every little eight foot wide shop people were stripping copper wiring, smashing computer monitors to get the aluminum gaskets, separating plastic film from its foil backing, stacking cans, taking apart motors or cars, that sort of thing). 


Smashing up motors or something to get the copper

Stripping insulation off copper wire
As it turns out, Manesh Market, the second hand mobile phone market, had been gutted by fire last year and was out of commission.  Across the road, there was another market under tarps and we couldn’t tell if it was permanent or temporary.  In any event, we headed into the sauna inside and found a couple of shops selling China-made knock off phones like this 'SUMSMUG' smart phone that would cost Rs. 2,800 ($50) – at least that was the special white lady price.  Who knows how much less one could actually buy it for.


Ram was such a great guide and companion.  He could even put describe the cycles of recycling in terms of Hindu gods Krishna, Shiva and Vishnu, but don’t ask me to repeat his theory.  He also managed to fit in a quick visit to my old school, Cathedral School, so that I could get my photo taken in front.  In truth, I think this is the senior school and I went to the junior and middle schools, but it was too late and we were all too bagged to go find the other buildings.  I guess that will have to wait for some future visit. 


Then it was back to the Taj, through the security scanners and straight to the pool for a swim and to reflect on the day’s events and life in general after a day so full of contrasts.  Life is rich.  How shallow does that sound, sitting poolside on such a day?   

Next morning, taxi ride to the airport.  Another little cry on the way.  And a couple of hours later I was at my desk again at DEF in Delhi.

Oh yeah, did I mention how much I enjoyed Mumbai?

HAPPY CANADA DAY !!!!!

Sunday, 1 July 2012

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?