Bombay the Hard Way
From my travel journal, a short description of my studio trip to Mumbai. Our corporate sponsor, Bombay Dyeing, funded a trip for my studio to go visit the megacity in preparation for the studio. Without further ado:
It's taken five days for me to start to compose my thoughts. Five days of tropical sun, silk, slums, and smog so thick you can rub the grit out of your eyes at the day's end. I'd planned on keeping a journal, writing everyday, but your plans get lost in the chaos of the city.
Bombay. The Island City. The City of Dreams. Tugging on the laces of my hiking boots & cinching the double knots like twin butterflies; climbing up a rusted rebar ladder to the sun-baked rooftop of a chawl, the rebar broken, corroded by sea salt, and the concrete stained with decay green to black: under the tropic noon sun the Blue 5 blue plastic tarps and sagging corrugated metal of the slums shimmer in the haze of the horizon under the already rotting ten year old apartment towers. Armless beggars and Bollywood billboards idle in the heat. This.
And then Eight hours later, martinis & prawns rubbed in spices, five types of kabobs, and garlic or corn naan at Gallops, the race course. I sat across from the business tycoon Ness Wadia, co-owner of the Bombay Dyeing Company & listened to his dreams for Mumbai. His are the sort of dreams that should only be heard at nightfall, as the sun falls into the Arabian Sea, staining Chowpatty Beach blood-orange, as the skyscrapers and towers lining Marine Drive light up, brilliant diamonds burning incandescent in the night with the promise of wealth and luxury.
In Mumbai, in the thrill of the color, the myriad smells, the speed, in the press of the crowds, and the noise of the traffic you miss some of the city's beauty: the beauty that stands still - the twin peaks of the mimosa joined in an elegant H; the women sitting on a street corner preparing for puja - platters of coconuts, bananas, saffron, incense, yogurt, & fifty rupee notes hidden under cloths - their bright saris lost in the yellow, black, red pulse of traffic.
The statues of Shiva carved into bare rock in cave temple of Elephanta were used for target practice by Portuguese soldiers. Now the shores of the island are hidden by banks of smog out in the harbor. The glass towers of Mumbai are lost into the petrol haze ten, fifteen minutes from port. From the Gateway of India, the grand marble arch through which the last British soldiers marched off of Indian soil. Monkeys and the fishermen of the island, hawking necklaces, Ganeshes, and Coca-cola, now guard the temple. The monkeys - its rumored that some are seasoned criminals trained to work for the gangster underworld - steal a coke from the girl beside me. She's lucky it wasn't her camera.
And I made it to Bollywood! To Film City! In the jungle just south of Sanjay Ghandi National Park on the outskirts of the city, guards with double barreled shotguns patrol the dusty streets and feral dogs piss outside the gates. Our host, the sound technician for Voice of India, led us to Stage 7 past the new film sets being thrown up and we got a couple seconds on the silver screen.
For pictures:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/96236589@N00/sets/72157602836276006/
It's taken five days for me to start to compose my thoughts. Five days of tropical sun, silk, slums, and smog so thick you can rub the grit out of your eyes at the day's end. I'd planned on keeping a journal, writing everyday, but your plans get lost in the chaos of the city.
Bombay. The Island City. The City of Dreams. Tugging on the laces of my hiking boots & cinching the double knots like twin butterflies; climbing up a rusted rebar ladder to the sun-baked rooftop of a chawl, the rebar broken, corroded by sea salt, and the concrete stained with decay green to black: under the tropic noon sun the Blue 5 blue plastic tarps and sagging corrugated metal of the slums shimmer in the haze of the horizon under the already rotting ten year old apartment towers. Armless beggars and Bollywood billboards idle in the heat. This.
And then Eight hours later, martinis & prawns rubbed in spices, five types of kabobs, and garlic or corn naan at Gallops, the race course. I sat across from the business tycoon Ness Wadia, co-owner of the Bombay Dyeing Company & listened to his dreams for Mumbai. His are the sort of dreams that should only be heard at nightfall, as the sun falls into the Arabian Sea, staining Chowpatty Beach blood-orange, as the skyscrapers and towers lining Marine Drive light up, brilliant diamonds burning incandescent in the night with the promise of wealth and luxury.
In Mumbai, in the thrill of the color, the myriad smells, the speed, in the press of the crowds, and the noise of the traffic you miss some of the city's beauty: the beauty that stands still - the twin peaks of the mimosa joined in an elegant H; the women sitting on a street corner preparing for puja - platters of coconuts, bananas, saffron, incense, yogurt, & fifty rupee notes hidden under cloths - their bright saris lost in the yellow, black, red pulse of traffic.
The statues of Shiva carved into bare rock in cave temple of Elephanta were used for target practice by Portuguese soldiers. Now the shores of the island are hidden by banks of smog out in the harbor. The glass towers of Mumbai are lost into the petrol haze ten, fifteen minutes from port. From the Gateway of India, the grand marble arch through which the last British soldiers marched off of Indian soil. Monkeys and the fishermen of the island, hawking necklaces, Ganeshes, and Coca-cola, now guard the temple. The monkeys - its rumored that some are seasoned criminals trained to work for the gangster underworld - steal a coke from the girl beside me. She's lucky it wasn't her camera.
And I made it to Bollywood! To Film City! In the jungle just south of Sanjay Ghandi National Park on the outskirts of the city, guards with double barreled shotguns patrol the dusty streets and feral dogs piss outside the gates. Our host, the sound technician for Voice of India, led us to Stage 7 past the new film sets being thrown up and we got a couple seconds on the silver screen.
For pictures:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/96236589@N00/sets/72157602836276006/