The Kashmiri Connection

FROM 20TH DEC.
Today we met Corinne's friend Imran, the model Kashmiri .... tall, broad-shouldered, good looking, with an international air and an english accent way better than mine! His friends are in town so we are swept off our feet on a grand tour of Mumbai with our four Kashmiri men. First stop the Maha Lakshmi Temple. It's by the sea, but we must struggle through a sea of devotees and stalls selling flowers, shining trinkets and indian sweets, a sea of marigolds, fushia orchids, scarlet saris and gold and yellow cloth. Men in dhotis selling deity pictures, Shiva with his trident, Durga on her tiger, Kali with her necklace of severed heads, Ganesh with his trunk and the beautiful Lakshmi, goddess of wealth and prosperity. Removing our shoes we ascend to the holy shrine. Sweet insence mingles with salty air and a hint of exhaust, the mumble of chanting and tinkling bells. We jostle in line with sari-clad women pushing and shoving, clutching their offerings. ... finally inside, a strangely modern golden Lakshmi looking hard and reflective amidst the bustling brahmins and bowing devotees.As I'm about to leave a brahmin reaches over and hands me prasad, a banana leaf heaped with pineapple slices and 3 round doughy looking balls. I lower my head to receive the vermillion mark on my forehead pushing a note in the collection box. Feeling blessed as we descend barefoot with the crowd and I purchase a twinkling gold sticker of Shiva's feet!
Next stop 'The Haj' this mauseleum of a famous Sufi saint stands white and isolated at the end of a long causeway reaching out into the sea. At night it is covered by water, during the day, by devotees. As we walk, the stalls selling miniature prayer mats, amulets and beads give way to beggers lining the causeway.More and more, deformed, disabled, chanting, moaning, crying. I find it very hard, conversation dries up, it is hard to know how to handle this. Life is cheap here, there is no safety net for the disabled, the mentally or physically wounded from the under class of society. I think of the 'Spastic Society of India' but none of these children will be helped by them, these are the poorest of the poor.I wonder, will India ever deal with this problem, with economic growth will there also be a parallel growth in social awareness? But here, this is not seen as a problem, but more an integral part of the fabric of society. Imran explains to me that so many beggers come here because they know in the Islamic faith it is customary to give alms especially after a pilgrimage to the Haj. He also explains much about his country and culture and I ask him about Sufism. He tells me that Sufism was responcible for the original expansion of the Islamic faith in Kashmir and much of India. Sufis celebrate the divine in every aspect of life through devotional song, poetry and dancing, they did not discriminate against any other religion that wished to join them in their glorification of Allah. They also emphasize living in the present moment, and living peacefully with others, it was only later that the Moguls converted people by the sword. He also told me that at heart Kashmiris are a peaceful people, infact one of their most famous Sufi saints was influenced by buddhist ideas, but it has been caught in a struggle between Pakistan and India. So I ask him about "Gandhigiri" He said he is very interested in the film, he feels the only solution for Kashmir is a non-violent one. How could Kashmir do battle with the two nuclear powers at it's borders? He sites similarities between Kashmir and Switzerland, better to become resourceful like the Swiss.
Over lunch Imran tells us about his project with Kashmiri craftsmen. He and his father have started a school in Kashmir to educate the children of craftsmen, not only in their craft but also with a modern education. He is working primarily with fine Kashmir shawls and is creating a fair trade organization to bring funds in for the school and bring dignity back to the craftsmen. He is passionate about helping his people and is also working in the textile industry. I feel this is a project worthy of a "gandhigiri" interview, so I extract a promise that he will do an interview with me on my return to Mumbai.
We end the afternoon spotting the houses of Bollywood stars and on Juhu Beach for the sunset. ... beset by beach hawkers and a dancing monkey doing the "Michael Jackson" and the sweet persistant Mindi girls. I finally succumb getting my hand henna-ed and paying too much.... but now I am ready for a wedding! So Imran invites us to one!!

Good Morning Mumbai!!!

FROM TUESDAY 19th Dec....6am Colaba awakens, the sound of sweeping then scrubbing outside my window, a soft cooing through the leafy courtyard, a cacophony of black crows cawing. A beat-up old tom cat hobbles down the street below. Gradually the soft mumbling of human voice, clinking aluminium cooking pots, a rickshaw rumbles through the back streets, the beep beep of a yellow-black taxi. The crows are hovering ready to snatch leftover toast from the balcony breakfast as we set out jet-lagged, adjusting to the humid heat.
Gate of India, enormous, grandiose, a vision of colonial might...in all it's glory silouetted against blue sky and ocean. Erected 1924 through which the last British regiment departed only 24 years later leaving an independant India. Today there are touts, hawkers, balloon sellers, begging children, tourists.My dear friend and travel companion Corinne, tall, blonde... a magnet! In moments we are surrounded. Me, chatty with the locals, susceptible to their yarns, although I should know better. We receive our blessing from the hindu priest, the ubiquitous piece of string round the wrist (oh no! this one's so thick it'll never fall off!) Yes 50 rupees please. Ma'm! Ma'm! milk powder for the baby, 150 rupees please. Sightseeing all mumbai Auntie, just looking! just looking! only 2000 rupees.
Escaping, we head up The Causeway towards Kala Ghoda, our first taste of Mumbai traffic... cars, buses, taxis hurtling at top speed, rickshaws, bikes, motorbikes weaving inbetween... pedestrians taking life-threatening leaps to cross the street! Dusty buildings loom round 'Regal Circle' and up Mahatma Gandhi road! Traffic exhaust tinges everything black from buildings to trees to traffic and people.
Leafy respite at last in Horniman Circle, leads to our first Gandhigiri opportunity!
"The Spastic Society of India" (refreshingly Un- PC name!) is having a bazaar. Beautiful items for a good cause, I buy two bags.The cashier, gazing at my freckles in fascination, returns too much change.... I hand her back the 50 Rupee note, she smiles embarrassed. We get invited to the inaugural show to see the kids perform and guided to the cushy front seats. Seemed like a good idea to rest our legs.
Ah.... but.... the endless gift giving ceremony, the speeches, the American consul general, I start to nod, applause, I jerk awake sitting bolt upright, mortified at the idea of nodding off in our honoured guest seats. More speeches, jet-lagged drooping eyes, nodding head, I lurch to the side. Then a prod from the 'spastic kid' behind. He's sharp! nobody else noticed! I glance pleadingly at Corinne and then the entrance... it's jam packed, no escape! We're here for the duration. I think of Gandhi who got away with 4 hours sleep a night, I pinch myself. Suddenly I'm rescued! Miss Bollywood Babe herself is onstage, her high pitched voice and the jangling music searing my ears and shaking my brain as she gyrrates to her latest hit, "Oh what a Babe!" Bollywood's answer to Janet Jackson and my answer to jet-lagg!
We make it through the whole program, the kids in wheel-chairs with dancing arms, the girls school choir with tinsel batons singing 'Silent Night' and 'little Xmas Tree'... and the tree herself with jingling ankle bells and flashing lights. A sense of guilty pleasure as the whole thing draws to a close, the Xmas tree sashays offstage with 'father christmas' loosing her beard and belly. Surely patience is a double virtue when you're jet-lagged and in desperate need of a nice cup of tea!!