Like a sardine in a tin can

Today we took the train to Churchgate in order to meet an official at the Handicraft Board. After wading through tons of male flesh that did nothing useful except staring, we got our tickets and went to the platform. On our way, we decided to take some pictures of the busy platforms, something we had just been assigned for our internship. I took a picture from the steps and quickly a very determined official told me in no uncertain terms that I was not allowed to take pictures. I apologized and have deleted the photo, but it was not a comfortable moment.

We continued to the platform and waited for the train. As it rolled in, I looked at Hanna and wondered how in the world we would manage to get on. It was just oozing with people. We didn’t. We tried, but had no chance. At least I saw others not making it either, so I didn’t feel too bad.

So we waited for the next train in the hope it would be slightly better. It wasn’t. So, we pushed and pushed and pushed and finally were in. There, we stood for half an hour so close that I felt body parts that do not belong against my body and got really annoyed when the lady in front of me had the nerve to pass gas. Between the gas, armpit smells, stench from outside and incredible heat, it was a most unpleasant train ride. Every time we reached a station and people had to either get on or off, they asked me to move. I would have loved to oblige, but the metal bars behind me didn’t sit so well with my rib cage.

We finally reach Churchgate and started walking. We were told it wasn’t too far but could take a rikshaw. Since we both like to walk and are sick and tired of “sightseeing” with a rikshaw, we decided to walk. And we walked. And we walked.

At a certain point, I noticed the beach and looked at Hanna. We just had to, so there we sat on the storm wall and looked out over the Indian Ocean. That was quite a moment. But, duty called and we continued. We must have asked 7 different people who all gave us nearly the same direction, but in Mumbai, you cannot miss a single little alley and some of the directions were quiet “complete”. Reminded me more of the German’s “immer gerade aus”. Finally, after a good hour or hour and half, we found the building and ventured into the dark, grungy hallway. I felt I had entered an Egyptian tomb and took a right, then a left and another left, just to find the tiny, old elevator. All this for nothing because we ended up not meeting with the person we were going to see.

So, we headed back and stopped on our way at the Bombay Store. This is a phenomenal store with beautiful souvenirs at outrageous prices. More importantly, it was a store with a bathroom and postcards!!! They also gave us great directions to the train station, which turned out to be only a 10 minute walk.

As our day ended with a storm raging through the neighborhood, I cannot let go of the images of the day and wonder how the scores of homeless people are faring in this weather. I just cannot forget a little, tiny boy lying sleeping, nearly lifeless, on a filthy rag on the filthy street, all alone. I don’t ever want to get used to it, nobody should.