What are our typical "Mumbai days" like, you ask? Predictably, they are spent for the most part working but are also filled with a sense of wonder (and bafflement, sometimes) as soon as we step outside. We do so almost exclusively by moto-rickshaw or taxis we hail, by the way, since we don't live within walking distance of anything but our lovely stretch of ocean.
The past, somewhat typical, week, included--besides the regular routine--many calls from me to the internet company that has owed us $100 for the past four months (yes, madam, I'll just call you back in ten minutes; the courier is just on his way; the courier has gotten lost) or, also, the phone isn't answering or the call failed. Such are the annoyances. Among the joys: my continuing art lessons, authentic Chinese restaurants which we continue to explore, somewhat authentic and quite good European-style restaurants, visits to markets like the famous Chor Bazaar (Thieves Market) where everything in the world seems to be sold--see the top picture.
Also, there are the religious festivals that arrive with the calendar fall; the one this past week was Govinda, a celebration of the god Krishna, an avatar of Vishnu. Because, according t myth, Krishna was a naughty cowherd who stole from the village women, his day is celebrated by young men building human pyramids and trying to snatch the pot of ghee (purified butter) hanging from some power line, while they're being doused with water.
And, since the monsoon rains are finally ending, we are starting to take more trips, like the one this weekend to an organic farm owned by a hippie, hypnotherapy- and natural birth-propounding businessman tired of city living. 2 1/2 hours outside of Mumbai, it's a world of lush greenery and large village homes that adhere to a traditional lifestyle yet benefit from the prosperity that comes with being close to a large city.
We visited a village home where life was distinctly better than in the notorious Mumbai slums: there were several rooms, the cow dung-based floor was spotless and the kitchen utensils well kept. While the man of the house, a rice farmer, was having a conversation with our hotel owner, the women--his wife and two daughters--crouched in the corner respectfully, not saying a word. The only decoration was two clocks, one non-functional, and some magazine pictures, and the two light bulbs kept the space rather dark, but everything was well maintained and orderly.
We also visited the house of a local Warli artist--named after the pagan tribe that lives in this region and practices it, this tribal style is based on geometric, stylized figurines and almost always features the circular tharpa dance, with the central figure playing the tharpa, a kind of flute.
To round out the weekend, I learned how to make some of the local organic dishes we were served--flattened rice fried with spices, onions and lemon (a breakfast food), puffed rice fried again with spices and rice, and fried okra, also with spice, a popular side dish here. No such luck with learning how to make pappardum--a thin, savory cracker cooked directly over the stove burner, as seen here.
Fatty yet tasty comfort foods abound everywhere, as you see in the picture of the very deep-fried lentil cake we got at the local market.
All of the vegetable dishes we ate were accompanied by pickles--an inventive staple of Indian food; even starfruit can be pickled, as can be seen in one of these pictures. And, to add to the authenticity, the gas stove often had to give way (because of power cuts) to the hole in the ground lit up with firewood and the rooms were covered with thatch and straw and open on all sides, letting all kinds of insects crawl in. While not wild or terribly adventurous, it was the kind of getaway every city dweller must crave sometimes as a break from the daily routine.
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