A Bombay Holiday
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Today was one of those
perfect Bombay alone days. I got a good chunk of work done in the morning,
wandered the streets to my personal one-eared ipod soundtrack (bought new
headphones because one of my earbuds went out, and two weeks later one of the
new ones has gone out too, so I think it's meant to be), browsed a bookstore
for longer than I should admit, stopping myself when my books-to-buy pile hit
five. I’ll need more for rural South Africa, and I’m such a nerd, they’re all
non-fiction and mostly world-medicine-related tomes I can reread and study.
Strange hobby, I know. That, and I want to work on my language learning.
(Photos: look, look! I decorated the chair, since I can’t tape to the walls)
Speaking of strange,
some friends and I attended Khai fest 2009, the local Hanukkah fest which was a
cross between a community talent show, a Holi show and a fundraiser. I have
never been to a Hanukkah fest, and certainly not with belly-dancing, Hindi
comedians, Indian classical singing, bollywood dance, and even a tacky auction
to light the menorahs that only some sucker white people in the audience
participated in (insert Jewish money joke here). My favorite line was when one
young man said he needs to find a good Jewish wife, but whenever he meets an
Indian Jew he first asks, “Are we related?” To cap off Hanukkah, aka Jewish
Diwali, I had a Hanukkah dinner (which I called my Jewish birthday so friends
let me pay, because the birthday girl treats here instead of the other way
around), where I taught the dreidel game, and we took turns lighting candles in
little bowls as a makeshift menorah over Jewish/Lebanese/Greek snacks. (Videos:
Jewish belly dancing and Indian dance)
Then I went to an
expensive Western-priced mall (as in $40 tops expensive!) all decorated and lit
for Christmas, although I have yet to hear any Christmas songs besides a few
reggae ones on my computer a friend sent. As much as I grow weary of the same
twenty songs in repetition for the month following Thanksgiving, it doesn’t
feel like the holidays without them—nor in 90-degree heat at night. I’m pretty
sure any nostalgia for cold weather could be quickly cured by one visit to India’s
first ice bar. It’s just so expensive…well, $16, but I could travel by
train across the country for (less than) that. Also, being white automatically
merits me ‘Merry Christmas’ wishes, and people are very proud that they know
Christmas is coming. Today I was invited to a midnight mass in a nearby garden.
I’ve never been to a midnight mass, either, so I suppose I might as well. The
most Christmas-y conversation I’ve had involved an argument that Santa is the
best marketer in the world, which I suppose is fitting in a country where the
business section of a bookstore is nearly as big as the fiction section. (Update: I am sitting in a Tea Leaf and Coffee Bean in South Bombay listening to a choir caroling with a guitar, keyboard and amp system, and half the choir appears to be Hare Krishna)
Now, a quick thank you to
enteroquinol (which is banned in the West due to eyesight damage claims I shall
ignore) for ridding me of whatever crazy dizziness-inducing bug I had. And the
random observation of the day: TATA,
a private Parsi conglomerate that’s in every industry from tea to steel to
telecom to the Taj hotels (and began in the 1860’s in opium trade in Bombay),
owns India. As I was marveling this to a friend, he informed me that actually, Reliance Industries
is the second-largest private conglomerate in the world (started in just the
1960’s) and accounts for 3.5% of India’s GDP. So I guess I take it back.
Reliance owns India, but Reliance, you need to advertise better. I didn’t know.
(Photo: random Parsi architecture)
While Reliance and TATA duke it
out, I for one am not a fan of conflict, and I am not a fan of blame. The
instant response to conflict here (to generalize of course) seems to be to
blame the other party, even if it’s something straightforward like a nurse
telling me, “Go. Follow that woman.” I get up, follow, walk into a room I
apparently shouldn’t be in, return to the waiting room, and the nurse says, “No,
you didn’t understand me. Follow her in a few minutes. Sit now.” I sit for one
second. “Follow her now.” We walk the other direction. Of course, my bad. As
pushy as I find Indians (especially when disembarking from trains), Israelis I
encounter are even more so. And I thought I was blunt. I can say directly, “I
am not interested in dating. I feel uncomfortable,” and that doesn’t even end
an Israeli’s pursuit. I don’t understand the Israel-India connection either,
but tons of Israelis holiday here, and they even have special beach houses set
up with Kosher food and everything. Israel is apparently the largest military
supplier to India, and a study earlier this year found that Indians were
more sympathetic to the Jewish state than even the US. Still, assertiveness
is a tricky balance; I like how this
article puts it: like salt in the sauce, if done well, no one notices it,
and if too little or too much, it can wreck the balance. On the other hand,
there’s Buddhism and yoga and meditation and so many beautiful and profound
religions and philosophies about the meaning of life and how we are all "striving
to join the infinite current,” and the immense comfort in the knowledge that “everything
is nothing”... I have not even begun to scratch the spiritual surface of this
country. If the temples and ashram retreats serve as the opposite to everyday
aggression, then India (and Israel!), could work on spreading the salt around
more evenly as it’s shaken.
Posted byValerie at 1:40 AM
2 comments:
- This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
- This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
