The two people you meet in Bombay…if you’re lucky
1) It seems like most people who inhabit an area know very little of its core or periphery. For example, most of us young folks from the Dub-C East Bay Area, wouldn’t be able to take someone through San Francisco-From North Beach, to the warf, on to the Mission, up to Haight, and back without getting lost. Okay, maybe that’s just me…But I think it’s just been in the last couple years that a handful of us have made the effort to try and befriend one of the best cities on the planet, while others nearby choose to stray. Example number two, is when I stayed with a homestay family in Salamanca, Espana for 3 months. The parents whom were in their forties hadn’t been anywhere in Spain- Barcelona, Sevilla, Portugal- which was only two hours from Salamanca!! I mean how does this happen? How do people get so comfortable in their surroundings that they have no interest in exploring or knowing their home?
Example number three is Bombay. Especially so…because here in India and Pakistan anyone who has a decent lifestyle has a servant/maid, cook, and driver. This means that the driver takes them to and from their destination in air-conditioned luxury. They (anonymous) aren’t able to express any detail when someone asks them about Bombay and its intricacies.
Lucky for me, I meet someone like Mister Phillip- a fifty-year old Serbian man in the petro-chemical business who lived in Bombay for 8 years a while back. “Taizun and I will be going far down under after all the environmental damage we’ve caused in our lifetimes,” he laughs. I had lunch with him and my Uncle Taizun’s secretaries and he was hysterical. Lots of stories and very animated. After lunch, I was planning on going into Colaba…Mister Phillip said he was heading that way and that we could walk there together…From Horniman Circle we cruised…he knew Colaba inside-out… it was like taking a guided tour of a college campus. “This is the Church of England, but was renamed Church of India after independence. These lads are selling generic perfume in designer bottles. The guy who just sold me this pack of cigarettes would have given me a cheaper tabacco if I didn’t speak Hindi. Indian girls don’t want American guys. If they are seen with an American, then everyone thinks they are a slut. If an Indian guy has an American, then he is macho.” Keep going my friend. We talked about Serbian politics, Indian society, and his life all over a couple pints at Leopolds. “This is a Parsi establishment. You know that right?” He was fascinated by the Parsi culture and he was much more versed in its history and tradition. “The Parsis will die because there are so few of them and the marriage rules are too strict. They should change this.” Why so you can convert?
2) A girl named Suchi. You know those people who are usually of the opposite sex and who have an incredibly sassy, spunky, sarcastic, energetic sense of self? The people you can instantly joke around with. I love those people. Although since sarcasm is usually at the foundation of the relationship, its hard to dig beneath that towards sincerity. Or so some have told me…
She is a good friend of Melissa’s (my aunt’s daughter) and I met her my first night in Bombay. She was singing to songs on the car radio and yapping away about this and that. I later played her a track by Annie called “Heartbeat” and she was dancing and playing it over and over again. “How did you know I would like that song. That is a great track! Music, I love music. When I hear good music I feel like I can do anything!” Whoa. A couple days later she steals my hat, thinking that I am nice enough to give it to her…Well, she has still has it, but I better get it back. “It’s not everyday you meet someone so similar. It’s so great. I mean, you and I we are the same. What’s the word I’m looking for?..ummm…NOTORIOUS, yeah.”
“Notorious? I don’t think that’s the right word,” I replied.
“Yes, notorious,” Suchi says.
“Okay.”
Whenever I travel I’m always filled with this indescribably curiosity. I want to explore every alley, knock on every door, talk to every person. If I’m on a train I will go sit down next to someone sitting alone and strike up a conversation. I’ll dig up maps of whatever city I’m in and make sure I’ve covered every block, that there isn’t some secret jewel hiding from me.
Then on the flight back to San Diego - every god damned time - I tell myself I’m going to keep up this same curiosity and passion for living, exploring, discovering. But I always let myself down.
I’ve made a very consciouss effort to get to know San Diego as well as possible and yet I’m pretty sure I still have a better sense of Christchurch, New Zealand or Cape Town, South Africa because I’m so much more aware of what’s going on around me when I travel.
I wish I could keep that sense with me wherever I go. Anyway bro, you do a wonderful job describing it.
I’m walking there with you homie, rappin with Mister Phillip and laughing with you and Suchi (I call her Sushi) and the Indian girls can’t help but talking to me even if they’re looked down upon.
Keep em coming.