Mumbai Encounters #3

Walking in the city

How often do you walk in the city? Have you noticed, during your walks - the way in which you move as you make your way? In Indian cities especially, to go for a walk down a busy street is like moving in an endless obstacle course. I noticed that I keep moving in patterns. Hop up onto the pavement, avoid the telephone pole, slide down the kerb, gallop across the street - even as vehicles are whizzing by, weave around the parked cars and bikes, stalls and street vendors.

I am walking through Bandra, perhaps the best known of Mumbai's western suburbs - home to a good cross-section of the city's elite - Bollywood stars, cricketers and businessmen. I walk into bustling Pali market and then along the roads over the hill. Vistas of the hills or the sea, are completely hidden by massive towering structures – fancy fancy apartments, stealing the views for themselves. Bandra is a curious place, because while there is a lot of posh (and it is visible) - it is also a great place to witness crushing  poverty, first hand. Typical of Mumbai - there's a lot of disparity, and it is very visible.

Everywhere I see contrasts – right next to a luxury apartment, fancy enough to have a car elevator, there is a chawl with no drainage or water supply. Pungent greenish sewage collects in a little pool by the roadside. Well, the numerous drivers, maids and nannies in service of the rich and famous have to live somewhere too, don’t they?

Khar Danda:

One great place to witness this disparity - where the transition from sickeningly rich to scruffy working class is rather abrupt - is beautiful Carter Road, a perfect microcosm of the city if there ever was one. As you walk from the South end along the promenade - you will pass the glass towers of the folks who seem to have exclusive sea-view rights, then the spiffy eat-outs at the khao gully junction - and then all of a sudden, all around you are fishermen's houses and the sharp whiff of drying fish that permeates the air. This is Khar Danda, an old fishing village that existed long before any of the glass towers were built, which, together with Chuim village nearby, are the vestiges of an old and laid-back Bandra.

Khar Danda is saffron today. Balasaheb’s face glowers down at me from numerous hoardings. A couple of cars loaded with party flags line the street. Of course, all these are just barely registering in my brain, because Khar Danda explodes in my face – in a frenzy of colour and movement.

 One has to be careful where one walks – to get distracted can be dangerous. More than once, I bumped into someone while studying a store-sign. 

As the last rays of twilight peek out over the rooftops, I lose myself to the place. It’s the most crowded place I’ve been in all day, reminding me of the trains during rush hour – except that everything is constantly moving. I make my way along the main road, resisting the urge to plunge into one of the side gullies and get lost in the labyrinth.

When you reach the end of the settlement along this road, a part of the coast becomes visible – but it isn’t really accessible. A large wall with a gate bar the way, and past the gate I can see rows of warehouses along the coast. But as I stand there, trying to figure out a way past the gate, I begin to sense some sinister vibes. Two men standing by a corner are now watching me suspiciously. I quickly walk back the way I came and ask an old uncle sitting outside a Mandir if there is a way to get to the shore. “Why do you want to go there? There is nothing to see near the shore!” the old man exclaims, alarmed. “Listen, just turn left over here – don’t go towards the coast, nothing to see!”

I decide it would be better to pay heed, but I can’t help but feel a bit cheated by this strange city. How is it that for a city with such a vast coastline, so much of it is hardly accessible, or even visible? How did Mumbai manage to close itself to the sea? Of course it had forgotten its rivers – as I had seen with the Mithi earlier that day. Perhaps the river is forgotten because it is invisible, but then, so are many parts of the coast. I realize then, how important it is for a part of the city to be visible and accessible if it has to become meaningful to the city’s residents. If it is central to their lives and to their imagination of the city, then there is no question of forgetting about the coast, river, nor anything else.

Barred by the coast, I turn and walk cautiously down the narrow side street that the uncle had pointed to. “If you want to get to the main road, then keep turning left – don’t turn into any gullies on the right,” someone warns me as I make my way in. I do as they say, and thank goodness too!

The streets are in places only a couple of feet across – not really streets, just gaps between the houses. Inside there are shops of all kinds – pharmacies, sweet shops, an appliance store. Old Koli grandmothers sit on their doorsteps chatting, TVs are on, women wash vessels on the street – I slip over the wet stone in places. 

Where am I going? I have no clue. The streets double back on themselves, branching out indefinitely, without any sign of dead-ends – It’s helped me lose all sense of direction, and I feel I could keep walking forever. But one thing that truly fascinates me is how close I feel to these people's lives, simply by walking past their homes - their day to day activities are out in the open - their movements and paths entwined with mine - their joys and sorrows, and the mundane of everyday existence, all on display. It's touching, human and fills me with a strange kind of joy. I think for a second about the rich - the poor people cooped up in their million dollar homes - barely even aware of who their neighbours are, always fearful of the home getting robbed - a life far removed from this. Such are the idiosyncrasies of human existence.

Pondering this, I turned left for the umpteenth time - and suddenly found myself back on the main road - full of people, bicycles, trucks carrying fish, and some very fat cats. Standing out here, one could never guess the extent of the settlement stretching out along the coast. The Sun has completely set by now, and I my legs are also giving out. I decide that it's enough walking for one day - a long walk it might've been, but it's given me plenty to think about!