Mumbai Gets Smashed, "This is India", Bombay Traffic, and a visit to the Kalwa Slum

Mumbai Gets Smashed

A team competes in a Dahi Handi as part of the Janmashtami festival

            Last Friday, groups of men and women, hung off the sides of pickup trucks and cruised on motorcycles looking to get smashed. They had no intention of sipping suds of alcohol. They were on a quest to smash pots as part of the Janmashtami festival. The Janmashtami festival celebrates the birth of Lord Krishna, a major Hindu god.

            One of the most elaborate parts of the festival is the “dahi handi” ceremony. In the Dahi Handi ceremony govinda mandals, groups of about 20-30 men, create a human pyramid in order to smash a pot hanging from a wire. Over the years, the stakes of the dahi handi ceremonies have been raised with the introduction of major cash prizes. Govindas usually practice for a month or two before hand with hopes of breaking as many pots around the city as possible with hopes of accumulating a handsome prize.

            We took a tour of the city that day and saw several dahi handis. Music thumped from speakers, and the crowd erupted when the person at the top of the ladder, usually a boy around 10 years old, smashed the pot and was showered with a pinkish dye. After participating in the dahi, teams would pile into pickup trucks for a joy ride until they reached their next destination. 

The ascent begins

Building the foundation

 

Almost There

So close yet, so far

Victory!

Enjoying a Gatorade Bath and a post victory bus ride

            There were some injuries involved in these acrobatics. Two people died and 225 were injured as a result of falls or other injuries such as coming in contact with electrical wires.

“This is India”

            

The source of Indianized polka music I heard in my neighborhood last Wednesday

       Everyday, I notice something, that from the eyes of a white, Jewish suburbanite is seen as radically foreign.  One day while ordering a sandwich at Subway a pack of 20-30 Muslim men drove by the store holding Muslim flags (which may or may not have been related to riots that had taken place at a major train station that day). This week on my walk home from school, a street performer paraded up and down the street with a thick piece of rope. Each time he hit himself, a loud “thwack” thundered through the air. On Wednesday, at 9:30 at night, a local group that had done well in the dandi handi ceremonies paraded through the street next to my hostel, celebrating their accomplishments dancing to what sounded like Indianized polka music.

            But there are certain things that can be explained with a simple phrase: “This Is India.”

             Last Friday at 1 a.m. a pack of 30 honking motorcycles rolled through my neighborhood, the passengers and drivers hollering at the top of their lungs. I watched the motor rally from the balcony of my hostel. I asked two Indian guys what the occasion was. Was the motorcade related to Janmashtami? Was it just a rowdy group of dudes who were taking a joy ride through town? The answer: “This is India.”

            I was supposed to take an economics exam last Saturday. I spent the night going over my cost curves and memorizing theories. After an eventful taxi ride, a 10 minute ride turned into a 30 minute odyssey because the cab driver had no idea where our intended destination was, I finally arrived at school to a locked room. The international education coordinator and I later learned that the exam had been cancelled for student council elections. For whatever reason, this had not been put on the school’s website, though they preach the importance of checking the schedule daily to ensure mix-ups like this do not happen. When I asked my adviser why things like this happen, at of all places a school specializing in management education, her answer was, “This is India.”

            Later that night at the main railroad station a woman told my friends and I to make sure we protected our wallets, cellphones and keys on our journey to the Matheran Hill Station. Her explanation for her advice: “This is f****** India.”

            A Visit to Kalwa

            About 93 million people live in slums in India. It has been estimated that 60 percent of Mumbai’s residents live in slums. About two weeks ago, my room mate Peter and I spent a few hours with members of the Gabriel Project Mumbai to learn about life in Kalwa, a slum in the northern suburb of Thane.

            The Gabriel Project is a new nonprofit that just launched in June. It is a Jewish nonprofit focused on eradicating hunger and illiteracy in Kalwa. Its volunteers prepare hot lunches for students at a local after school program and teach English and other skills in the classroom where the meals they prepare are served.

            The moment we got off the train we knew we were in a slum. Shanties practically come up to the train tracks and from the bridge of the train station, you can see a long stretch of corrugated roof homes. Peter and I enjoyed getting to know Gabriel Project volunteers and interacting with the warm and friendly residents of Kalwa. I am writing an article about the Gabriel Project which will hopefully be published within the coming weeks in New Voices  magazine.  

Random Photos

 

Enjoying the view at Malang Point at the Matheran Hill Station

Malang Point, Matheran Hill Station

Echo Point, Matheran Hill Station

About to go on the zipline for 300 rupees. A little less than $5.

Into the fog.

Drenched and Muddy From My Zip Line Into Echo Point

A game of Cricket at Juhu Beach.

Beach goers look at the skyline at Juhu Beach. Juhu is known as being the playground for Bollywood actors and actresses.

Playing some good old fashioned horseshoes at Juhu Beach

Bombay Traffic

Traffic rules which for the most part are never followed

 

As an ode to Jimi Hendrix and Mumbai's terrible traffic, I made a pardoy to his classic song "Crosstown Traffic." 

The lyrics are below. They'll make sense if you listen to the video and read along with the lyrics I wrote. Its an inspired by  the wonderful taxi drivers and traffic patterns of the city. 

"Bombay Traffic"

I jump in front of your cab when I,

Know all the time that,

Ten minutes away, is where you won't drive.

You tell me it’s alright, you don’t mind me waiting in the rain,

You say you just tell me to wait for another ride

You’re just like Bombay traffic

So hard to get through to you

Bombay traffic

I don’t need to wait in you

Bombay traffic

All you do is slow me down

And I’m tryin to get on the other side of the town

You’re not the only soul who’s accused of almost killing an innocent son

Faded paint all across your back

I can see you had your fun

But bhai can’t I don’t see your signals turn from left to right

And with you I can see a Bombay traffic jam ahead

You’re just like Bombay traffic

So hard to get through to you

Bombay traffic

I don’t need to wait in you

Bombay traffic

All you do is slow me down

And I’m tryin to get on the side of the town