Inside and Outside

Mumbai from my window in Dahisar

While I’m out and about, my mind is buzzing with observations of the millions of interesting things in this city. But as soon as I walk through the front door, the sweet and numbing effect of comfort takes hold and my observations lose their sharpness. We like coming home for that reason, but it deprives us of valuable observations as well as the exhausting memories of the day.

Mumbai is an intensified case of this effect for me, particularly because home is small and not-home is the size of several universes smushed together on 603 square kilometers. Home is sedentary, and not-home does not stop moving. The only places to sit down—buses, autorickshaws or trains—are still moving.

On these swarming streets, I did some shopping today. As it got dark, lights came on in each of the stalls creating a stunning visual effect. These lights direct your focus to the colorful produce and assorted shoes they are selling. Though they can’t capture the pulse of everyone moving to get necessities for the next day, the closeness of the heat, the smells of chai (tea), incense, and trash, or the satisfaction of haggling down a price, I wish I could have a picture of this scene.

My inside shoes!

I had a few things to get: inside shoes, bananas, a bag I would fit my computer (that wouldn’t look like I was carrying a computer to work), a passport sized photo I could use to get a monthly train pass, and a germicidal gargle. I didn’t manage to get the photo (yet), but I did manage to get everything else, and a pomegranate! My favourite find was my inside shoes, basically a pair of flip-flops but you only wear them in the flat. I had anticipated getting an innocuous pair—but then I saw them. Right next to the Che Guevara flippies, President Obama’s face stared upside down at me. I went over to check them out, simply amused, and then saw that they read “the savior of the world economy” on the toe pad. I still can’t stop smiling. Whether because it’s ironic right now with the debt crisis as it is, or because it’s just a silly thing to put on a flip-flop, I’m not sure and I don’t care. I just love it. Now my inside shoes keep my feet from touching the floor and put a smile on my face.

My other favourite moment of the day was the skywalk. The skywalk is an elevated sidewalk that helps to eliminate some of the congestion on the street five stories below and evacuate the train station crowds. I lied a teeny tiny bit when I said that there wasn’t anywhere to sit in Mumbai—there is one bench on the skywalk. Tonight, it was occupied by a young couple, the boy sitting with his arm around the girl. I did a double take—PDA is so not in here—and realized that the skywalk was actually a kind of lover’s lane.  Far fewer people, still public, much quieter: couples can lean close, and feel the charm of rebellion while still respecting tradition.

In other news—I really wish I had Indian hair. So gorgeous.