Mumbai (part II)

17^th to 19^th of March, 2023.

Do I have a place to stay? Nope! I guess I will just look for a gurdwara where I can stay for a few nights. Or with some locals. Of course, that would be way easier if I was in the countryside, in a small town, or in a village. I hope I still can manage.

Bad luck with the gurdwaras, though. It’s odd how none of them here in Mumbai have either free space or very nice people. They all seem quite keen and happy to get rid of me. Why is that? I am a lovely person! Laugh.

So here I am, wandering around one of the most populated cities in the world (13^th according to some list), in the middle of the night, with no place to sleep or monetary scape options. I only know I am around an area called Sion.

I try to talk with some ladies I see walking around here. It is a residential area. I am laughing now while writing this. What was I thinking?

They all seem kind and try to help but none of them actually invited me to stay with them. That would’ve totally happened already if I was in a village.

I am sitting in the sidewalk, resting by a small restaurant, near a small park / garden called H B Shivdasani Udya, when a group of young ladies arrive to the restaurant. They are all Muslins, wearing traditional long clothes and hijabs. One of them starts talking to me. Her name is Zainu.

Zainu is the only one among them who can speak English, although the others can understand. I tell quickly to Zainu what is going on, to what she answers, immediately: “Come and stay with my family.” They live in Dharavi. At that time, I didn’t know that Dharavi is the biggest slum in Mumbai. Actually, I would only get to know that a long time later. What makes things interesting, doesn’t it? That night, the following day and next night, while walking with the girls through Dharavi, I didn’t feel, not even for a second, threatened or as in any kind of dangerous situation. The girls say that people were staring at me but not even that I noticed. I felt more stared at it when I was in Cork, Ireland, than I felt in Dharavi. But my point is I felt safe and fine, as I was in any other place in the world.

Zainu’s family leave in a two-story building, composed of kitchen and one bedroom with a toilet. The structure of the buildings in Dharavi is curious. To go up from the ground floor, you must use metal stairs, which have an almost 90° inclination. Now, imagine doing that with my backpack The Hulk. The alleys are narrow and there’s very little day light passing through, due to the overtaken of the buildings. It feels like I am in a real Indian movie.

It doesn’t really come as a surprise to me how little surprised Zainu’s parents are about me staying with them. They act as it was just the most common thing to do, the ordinary act of humans helping another human who needs a place to stay. Zainu is the oldest of four children. Her two brothers and sister, are also living here. All the other girls who were with her earlier are cousins. We all have dinner together and then watch some tv.

The parents sleep on a bed in the kitchen. Zainu and I shared the bed of the bedroom, while her younger sister and the youngest brother, sleep on the floor. It’s cooler, they say. I guess they are right because it is difficult to stay cool with this heat.

We sleep until near midday but we also went to bed quite late. After eating something, Zainu’s mother takes us to the fish market and to do some groceries shopping. On the way back, a treat! It is the first time I have masala lemon soda. I love it! It is so tasty and refreshing! Who would ever think of it? Indians are genius! Amazing!

Back at home we just chat. Zainu wants to be an actress. She wanted other things in the past but now she would like to become an actress. It is a bit difficult with her parents being so strict about religion and all. Of course there are actresses who wear the hijab on their shootings, but it is just that it narrows her chances a bit, that’s all. She hasn’t taken any acting courses either, or had studied cinema. She has a portfolio though. I try to give her as many advice as I can, based in my life experience. Not that I have much, but having been out there and seen the world from a different perspective, I try to give her some guidance and suggestions of how she can improve her chances.

In the evening, I go with the girls for a little walk. And I get another wonderful treat: pani puri! It is funny how things work. I’ve had pani puri two times before: one in Bir, but the type you buy in the supermarket and just mix things yourself; and another in Chandigar, in a fancy restaurant. Both were good but nothing compares to this street ones I had. At first, I confess I was a bit worried. Will it be safe for me to eat street food? But I do it and… wow! It is so delicious! Everything is just perfect! The potatoes and chickpeas masala is warm and perfectly spiced; the puris are crispy; and apart from the delicious pani, the lovely elderly man has also another sauce, kind of spicy, which is the cherry on top! No need to say that nothing happened to me after eating these amazing pani puris.

I was hoping I could stay at least one more night with them, but tomorrow is Sunday and they are all going to the village where they are from, to visit a new born baby in the family.

Zainu’s mother and father make sure I have enough water and food for my journey (where ever is that I am going to). Her mother prepared a vegetable biryani, which is delicious, and I am taking some with me.

After lots of hugs, wishes of good fortune, and goodbyes, it’s time for me to leave.

19^th of March

I come to another Gurdwara, and talk with the people in charge. They are nice but also say their rooms are full. Trying to help me anyway, they offer for me to sleep in the eating room. They say that, after dinner, I can have my sleeping bag in the back, behind some chairs, and sleep there. I know it will be difficult to catch some sleep because the place is open 24/7, even though food will not be served. But it’s all I got.

I spend some time in the temple, when they are singing the verses of the scriptures. Time passes. I have dinner. I wash myself. And at night, I try to sleep. I might have napped a few times, but there is a lot of noise and people walking around. Early morning they already start preparing food for breakfast, so I’m up.

One of the men in charge, tells me I can use the wi-fi in his apartment, just behind the Gurdwara. I meet his daughter, a lovely young lady. I think I was just checking directions and the trains timetable. And, of course, if there was any answer form Shariva. Nope!

Downstairs of his building, I meet a lady and her daughter. They are intrigued about my presence there, so I explain everything. They say I can spend the night in an empty apartment in this same building, which they normally rent but now it is vacant. It is definitely better than another not sleeping night in the kitchen of the gurdwara, so I accept.

I just hang around for the day. Honestly, I don’t even remember what I did. I come to the apartment early, so I can have a good and long rest. Tomorrow, I will have some breakfast as early as possible and then finally take that train to Kerala.