Diwali and New Year's at the Half-Year Mark

Last week marked the half-year anniversary of our stay in Mumbai, minus the numerous trips and weekend jaunts. Besides all the travel and cultural experiences documented here, I have also undergone an injection with a smidgeon of patience and a reserve of humor. That is a necessary thing when promised (unpaid) jobs inexplicably dissolve into the ether--where are you, University of Mumbai?-- our ceiling is ridden with frightening-looking cracks after the monsoon, and many phone conversations over the faulty lines result in making a half-minute speech and hearing an exasperated yell of "Hello" from the other end.

Yet, even as I write this, my resolutely patriotic, parable-narrating and hymn-singing Hindi teacher seems to peer over my shoulder, disapproving: "Baba, you don't have phone problems in New York?" and the temporary visitor quiets down, not wanting to sound petty.

The week of Diwali, the several day-long celebration of the New Year here, centered on a battle between good and evil and symbolized by a great variety of lights and lanterns, began for us with a post-Halloween experience. On November 2, Misha glimpsed an uncanny sight when riding back from work past one of the Catholic churches in our neighborhood. When we went for a walk later that night, we discovered the cemetery by the church to be richly decorated with multi-colored flower petals in elaborate shapes, often spelling out words, that families were strewing over graves of their loved ones. This is a most Indian Christian custom to mark All Hallows' Eve (just like the wax figure effigies of sick body parts that Christians here can buy), and a haunting and affecting one at that.

For Diwali weekend itself, we escaped the craziness of firecrackers and street parties at our friends' invitation to visit their country house in Alibaug, a town located 3 hours from Mumbai by road (or a boat ride from the iconic 1920s Gateway of India near the Taj Hotel, pictured here). The atmosphere in this oceanside town is peaceful and sleepy and not much sightseeing interrupts the days of the residents of the "Indian Hamptons." Granted, there was a trip to a semi-ruined fort built by the 17th-century Maratha warrior king Shivaji--this native sun of our state of Maharashtra is a legendary figure who defended his kingdom from the Mughals--and over a hundred of his forts dot the coast.

Yet, the main thing to do, for once, was to relax and enjoy some of the most beautiful sunsets everywhere. For, while Mumbai is one of the most colorful cities anywhere, the party of the senses and craziness of its living conditions--flute-players in the morning? clothing-festooned cows?--does need an injection of sepia every once in a while.