Day 4, Mumbai [Friday 7th December 2007]
Previous day: Day 3, Mumbai [Thursday 6th December 2007]
Next day: Day 5, Mumbai, Gateway of India [Saturday 8th December 2007]
Oops, up late again. Kate woke me up at 4am to tell me there was someone in the bathroom. Of course, there wasn't. But then we both sleep in until 11am. So we ditch our plan to go to Elephanta Island and instead go to Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus (formerly Victoria Station) to get our train tickets to Aurangabad. I pick up some fine vadapav for breakfast from a hole in the wall outside the vast Gothic station.
Inside we get our first taste of Indian railway bureaucracy - finding the right ticket counter is the first problem, and we go up and down endless stairs looking for it. There are masses of people sitting and sleeping everywhere, the station is full of dormitories and offices, and there is a constant clanging, clattering background hubbub of people, announcements and movement. At the ticket counter, of which there is one specifically for foreigners, you need to ask the right questions, have the right currency and identification, and hope there is space left on the train you want to get. The whole of India seems to travel by train.
Our ticket guy is really helpful and gives us some good advice about which train to get, and we get our tickets. I'd love to know what software the ticketing system runs on, it seems labyrinthine to navigate through but he looks like he knows what he's doing. Looking forward to finding our sleeper train tomorrow.
There's a Mumbai Time Out edition, and over lunch - Bombay Masala Pizza! - we read that Kathak legend Birju Maharaj is playing here tonight at the National Centre for Performing Arts, at Nariman Point. We walk down there to get tickets but it's a sell out. Bah!
Next we get a taxi to the Dhobi ghats, where hundreds of people work washing the clothes of Mumbai out in the open in massive concrete baths. It's difficult to get a close up look, so we stand on a bridge going over the train tracks and look from there. Everyone must think we're nuts - we're basically watching the local equivalent of a washing machine. It's fascinating to think of the system they employ for keeping track of all the clothes and who they belong to. From up on the bridge it looks like organised chaos.
We walk from there to the Haji Ali Dargah, a shrine to a Muslim saint whose bones supposedly ended up there. There's tight security here, just as there was at the Mahalakshmi Temple yesterday - bag searches, airport style security gate, body pat down. You approach the dargah along a 400 metre causeway which streams with worshipers. There is a sharp contrast between the austere black jilbabs which the Muslim women here wear over their clothes, and the insanely bright colours of saris worn mainly by Hindus.
At high tide the causeway disappears beneath the water, making the Dargah into an island. Inside the complex the atmosphere is lively. Flowers, coconuts and chocolate are for sale, and some musicians play qawwalis with harmonium and tabla. A man comes over and talks to us. He says we're not in a mosque, but a shrine. He lends me his hat, a lacy thing a bit like a doily, so I can cover my head and go in to see the saint. Inside there is a casket, and men crowd around to touch it and pry or offer their gifts of flowers or money. Women pray too, separately from the men. At one point a little girl strays into the men's side and is pursued by, I assume, her father, who slaps her viciously and spits words at her.
Later we go back to the NCPA to see if there are any returned tickets for Birju Maharaj. There's a boy outside painted like a tiger. There aren't any tickets left, but luckily a man overhears and offers us two spares that he has - result! We go in and watch Maharaj do what is described as "a special performance of thumri-bhava in seated abhinaya style" for about 2 hours. In common with Amjad Ali Khan, who we saw at the Royal Festival Hall in 2006, he like to chat between songs. This art form is primarily about storytelling. The first two ragas are straightforward Hindustani music. After that Maharaj starts a more informal style peppered with subtle facial tics, glances and intricate hand movements. He enacts the wooing of a lady. His associate reads and dances through a poem, which is about Radha's impersonation of the god Krishna. The audience is really into him, and about 30-40 students sit on the floor, gathered around his feet. It's an interesting evening, despite us not understanding much of what's being sung or said.
We end the night with our worst, and most expensive, meal in India so far - a crappy Chinese on Veer Nariman Road, a few doors down from our hotel. Chinese is is the same greasy slop as it is back home in England. It costs Rs. 1000. Big mistake.
At the hotel we watch Voice of India, a kind of X Factor for kids. These children are all absolutely brilliant, but I have no idea which one I'd vote for. I recognise one of the songs from Paheli. Good luck to all of them. I doubt I'll see this show again for a while, sadly.
Next day: Day 5, Mumbai, Gateway of India [Saturday 8th December 2007]
Previous day: Day 3, Mumbai [Thursday 6th December 2007]