Today I took a bus tour of the city, arranged by the municipal government. Of course it was all in Hindi. I was going to buy a water and the lady didn’t give me change back, and then gave me 50 paise instead of 2 Rs. When I asked for my change, she yelled at me and shooed me away. I was furious. So far, I don’t like Mumbaikers at all. I read on a survey that they are the most unfriendly people of any large city in the world. Makes sense; they so far have tried to rip me off, stolen from me, and no one talks to anyone else as a friend like other parts of India. The tour bus was a light blue bus with pink stars and yellow seats. The kid next to me from Tamil Nadu talked to me the entire time, which was fun at first, but got old after a while. We stopped at Kala Ghoda, a mix of arboreal avenues lined with art galleries and museums. Artists worked on the streets, painting and drawing for pennies. It was pleasant. I was able to say I was from Assam, and get into the Prince of Wales Museum for the Indian rate. It housed some nice paintings both Indian and European, detailed ivory carvings, Mughal swords, and Chinese handicrafts. After that the bus wove its way through Nariman Point towards the skyscrapers, most famous of which being the Air India building. We drove up Marine Drive, the classic Mumbai curving seaside road, with Colaba on one side, and Malabar and Chowpatty Beach on the other. It afforded good views of Back Bay, Malabar Hill, and the highrise towers of Nariman Point. We stopped at the Taraporevala Aquarium, which was horrible because it was a ton of shoving people everywhere, lacking any order at all. After that, we got out at Kamala Nehru Park, with sweeping views of the beach and city. The park was small, with some grassy areas, a bunch of ice cream stalls, and a boot that kids can play in. It sits atop Malabar Hill, an exclusive residential enclave with the city’s highest land prices. The bus took us to lunch near the Mahalaxmi Temple, which was restricted to Hindus. I got a good view from the next temple, as it overlooked the palm-fringed beach, slums, and the temple. Then we wound through the wide but busy streets of the northern suburbs towards the Nehru Centre, which was a lot like the Pacific Science Center, with many exhibits on gravity, flight, sound, evolution, and colors (I failed the colorblindness test horribly). It was actually pretty cool. It had mirrors that stretched out your image, which were funny. Another funny aspect was the trivia game. A horde of nerdy Indian engineers (the kind that I could see as engineering TAs in the US) were competing on science questions like Jeopardy. The bus took us for a tour of the western suburbs near Juhu and Andheri. Glittering designer boutiques and upscale malls lined the wide avenues of this modern development. Facing the endless Arabian Sea were luxury high-rise apartments and bungalows with swaying coconut trees. Just like in Los Angeles, the guide pointed out the bungalows of Bollywood stars Amir Khan and Shahrukh Khan. Our last stop was a Hare Krishna Temple and the beach in Juhu. The temple was huge, and the line for puja and prasad wound around the walkway. It was all marble, and showed stories from the epics while you were in line to the idol. Outside, they sold books like the Bhagavad-Gita, like you’d see them peddling in the United States. Juhu Beach was a long strip of sandy flat coastline along the Arabian Sea. From there, the sunset over the ocean was picturesque, with couples sitting and talking, boys playing soccer, and peddlers milling around, trying to sell ice cream and toys. The bus dropped me off near the hotel, and I took a cab to Nariman Point to the Tata Theatre. I bought a ticket for tonight’s show; a classical Indian concert. Traditionally, North Indian concerts last all night long. Tonight marks the anniversary of the Ras Lila (Krishna’s dance to seduce the gopis), and this concert starts at 9 and lasts until the early morning. It was a really nice venue, and the entertainment was very good. The crowd was very rich, and the whole night only English was spoken. First, a dancer Orissan Kathak dancer with a turquoise and gold silk sari and bells on her feet performed, which was the quintessential Indian dance. Then a troupe of dancers came out and acted like the gopis, and there was a female Krishna, who danced with the others individually. After that was a stunning performance by drummers, tabla players, flutists, and sitar players. They each did solos, and I don’t know how their hands could possibly move that fast, it was like a hummingbird, and sounded really good. Then some man with a dress on kept singing, spinning, and stomping his feet with bells, which was also really good. Then it started to go downhill from there. A huge band came on, and a famous old diva named Kishori Amonkar led the singing. It is supposed to sound really good, but to me it just sounded like a turkey with phlegm, a cracking voice, and an echo. It kept me awake, though. This bald guy performed on the santoor, which lulled me to sleep, as it lasted for three hours. Next came two old bearded brothers, who sang, but it sounded like a yodeler with an echo. It ended at 6 am.
No comments:
Post a Comment