Riverbend

More than a blog this is a live book. She's an excellent writer who seems to elucidate even the mundane interestingly.

rapt attention

On Saturday I ventured to an Indian classical dance showcase. In the clipping where I read about the event, it said, “across the street from Sion Hospital”, it didn’t say, “across five lanes of high speed traffic in both directions.” While crossing the expressway I was cursing k for not coming with me to hold my hand through the ordeal. Luckily people are always around, so I waited for a cluster of people to cross and I scurried behind them. At the divider I moved my way into the middle of the cluster and it pushed me along and spat me out safely on the other side.

I was also annoyed with myself for being dressed as a standout American in this clearly middle class Indian area. I had tried on a new salwar kameez that I decided to keep for Sunday to where to a lunch at an aunty’s house. I was very aware of people knowing by looking at me that I was from Somewhere, Else. The performance was in Tamil Sangam Auditorium. Tamilians are south Indian folk, so I felt immediately comfortable when I walked in. I still got Somewhere, Else looks but they were friendly. A couple of people seemed to say hello because they weren’t sure if they knew me or not. I felt happy to have a clear sense of what people around me were saying since the dialect we speak borrows heavily from Tamil- much more clear than when I hear Hindi.

The performance was excellent. The only time I experience what it means to give someone ‘rapt attention’ is when I am watching dance. The styles represented were Kathak- a north Indian origin of dance, Manipuri temple dancing (Manipur is a state), Odissi, bharatanrityam (a modern form based on bharatanatyam but set to Hindustani music instead of Karnatak music), bharatanatyam, mohiniattam (from state of Kerala), and nrityaganga. The mistress of ceremony, a guru of bharatanrityam, explained the connection between the developments of each art form. Each type of dancer performed a piece having to do with union of Shiva and Parvati to demonstrate how each regional dance form expresses different facets of the same story. The woman who organized the event said something poignant about how this form of storytelling uses three modes of language- song/music, literature, and the technical language of dance. She created the form of bharatnatyam to Hindustani music so the story would not be lost, so that the audience could follow the dancer’s story through the story told in the song. She was born and raised in Maharashtra and said she fell in love with bharatanatyam at a young age. She has been dancing for 30 years.

All of the women who performed are master in their fields. Many of them travel internationally and have received many honors for their work and contribution to dance and culture. The Manipuri dancer is the youngest of the four Jhaveri sisters and received a Padma Shri for her work. These sisters trained together and over the course of their careers they have been dancing for fifty years.

All of the women moved with great agility and grace. Some were in their late 60’s. One minute she stamped out an intricate series of rhythm, the next moment a foot is caught above her head and in a second the foot dropped and she spun to end on not two feet but one with her center of gravity displaced to the left and her hips to the right and her arm relaxed in a gesture to indicate a lotus in her palm. I admire passion. Moreover, I admire when people have the courage to pursue their passion.

still confused

I went in search of the documentary and by the time I figured out how to get to the venue 25 minutes of the 51-minute documentary had passed. So I sat at this place called the Oval and watched multiple matches of cricket . I'll have some pics for you. I'm going in search of a dance performance later today. Wish me luck!

Dr Nagesh

I haven't been blogging as much lately, not because I am so very busy but just confused. Confusion normally prompts me to stand still. So for a companion in my confusion and to normalize my state, I plan to watch a documentarythat is in hindi and marathi with french subtitles. Dr. Nagesh is about an ObGyn who counselled HIV-affected patients pro bono for ten years. Two people of french origin made the documentary. The last time I really read French I was an adolescent, so let's see how this viewing experience goes.

welcome to my humble abode

view from the balcony attached to my room. the intersection is rarely so deserted.



one view of my room, from the balcony

another room view, standing close to the mirror in the previous picture
the pics dont represent about two-fifths of the space in the room.

turns out i did get an image of the cow standing in front of the boutique but somehow recorded it as a "movie" rather than a snapshot. i'll start posting more pics .

job update

I returned to the national news desk. I think it's a good compromise for now- I am still learning and giving myself time to enhance my language capability. I have been so hell bent on writing that I was having trouble working with my limitations. I could write about stuff related to the english-speaking population here (and most likely will push myself to) but the learning for me is stymied by only-english. It's kind of sad to know that there are certain topics you can write about without any new angle other than the recycled one you pitch to you editor as "new"; and it will get published because people are that eager for any point of entry, any "inside" info on the topic- feels like taking advantage of a person's desperation and my mind wanders to "false need" and "ideological imperialism". I'm being vague, sorry. I am thinking about a decades-old topic and trying to flip it so it's interesting enough to me to pursue. I dont feel too enthusiastic about bs-writing. Probably a good time to drop the idea and pick up another one. Maybe tomorrow, optimism will replace my cynicism.

Friendly strangers

You know what I wanted to tell you guys?
Despite all the frustration of negotiating what the hell people are trying to communicate, one thing I truly love and feel refreshed by is that children are not afraid of strangers generally. So many times now I have seen mothers dining with their shopping buddies and not-too-busy waiters pick up the children and play with them as the mothers finish their meals. In a store you can smile at a child without the kid’s face becoming cloudy and furrowing into the folds of his/her mother’s clothes. They readily pick up conversation with you in movie theaters, restaurants, shopping, and look puzzled if you don’t respond or ignore them.
Once I was sitting somewhere and this little kid leaned on me to support himself while he fixed his shoe. I was startled and looked around for his guardian. His mom sort of smiled at me and hurried her kid along.
People often make comparisons between Mumbai and new york city, but the general friendliness of children is one major difference. Nyc kids are very wary of strangers at an early age. They always seek the permission of their guardians to speak to strangers before engaging in conversation.
Here people don’t mind if you start talking to their children. This freaked me out at first, but it’s kind of nice, the trust. The presence of children seems to be an equalizer in a place where social/class distinctions are very clearly drawn lines.

pictures i love

check this out: david nightingale
a colleague showed this website to me. the way he got started is a pretty remarkable story.

Horn OK Please

Horn OK Please

(There's an animated short out there with this title. I so wanted to see it, but I missed it.)

I hate when people driving big-important cars with big-important people in them honk for pedestrians to get the hell outta the way even if said pedestrian is on the opposite side of the road. For some people honking seems to be a tick. The other day an autorickshaw driver whipped his head to the right for every time he pressed the black button that makes that irritating, shrill "beep". By the end of my ten minutes in his vehicle I felt like screaming at him. Or a taxi driver who would sigh and and then just lay on the horn. No reason, just bored, needed to fully exhale. deep breath, exhale, hooooooooooonk. People honk like someone sitting at a desk violently jigs his leg up-and-down or drums her fingers on the desk. Stop honking the horn, OK? Please.

Yesterday's rain

The air was soft and cool. The sun peeped out just before bidding us adieu. The ocean swirled into a dance and waltzed to land to say hello. As the ocean dipped and leaped, the sun projected streaks of watercolor hot pinks and deep oranges on a blue sky canvas. Their merriment was interrupted by a slight chill in the air. They turned to see that beautiful night had arrived.

rite of passage

Well chilis, I have been unwell, passed out for a few days with some version of bronchitis and a viral cold. Apparently Bombay Dreams now understands the full meaning of my nuclear family’s belief that I am a bit of a hypochondriac. Since I slept for the better part of 96 hours, I am beginning to feel better.

What’s been interesting lately? I realized that an uncouth woman I encountered at the bank in January is a socialite/actress who bounced to India from Australia.

I saw one of many weddings in the street yesterday. Everyday you see a wedding procession blocking traffic. I wondered if this was special, this wedding. I saw some young women in salwar kamise dancing to the music of home made drums and horns and a glittery red and gold parasol shielding the bride or groom. As they walked/danced a man was sitting with his back to the street soaping himself into a thick sudsy lather. A woman hurried by in western clothes and streaked blond hair heading somewhere with purpose. Cars honked at each other to stop gawking and get a move on. The wedding seemed to be happening in the middle of an intersection. They were celebrating the occasion in a manner that suggested a day just a level above a normal day, not a momentous occasion. Marriage seems to be considered one of life’s milestones- like learning to walk, talk, feed self, potty train. This is curious to me as I do not think of having family and marriage as a necessary gateway to “adulthood”. I wonder where in history the concepts of marriage and adult life linked to each other.

Diving

I feel bulldozed today. I am pretty sure I jumped in the deep end with this reporting thing. During a meeting today between reporters and editors, I was thinking about if I would feel this overwhlemed if I were in the same positon in nyc. My answer to that is most likely not, because I know new york and its neighborhoods and I speak two languages that are of great help in terms of accessing greater ny population. In Mumbai I am basically a stranger in a land I am just beginning to have an inkling about. This idea of reporting here seemed ballsy but is possibly foolish. I keep thinking maybe I should stay on the desk and write book reviews, movie reviews or something; but that is talk and a bit of research. I want to report- learn how to get first-hand information, learn how to manage communication barriers, learn how to fish for information very quickly and thoroughly. These are good life skills. During the meeting, though no one said anything explicitly, I began to fathom the responsibility of the job, even in the suburbs. People actually do read what you write and will seek you out and tell you what they think. What you write does not disappear in to oblivion but is part of a very large conversation. A very romantic notion as long as you don't have to do the footwork and get it right. oh, boy.

markers

I recently noticed a cluster of girls chatting happily- one had a boy cut, another had a dancer's braid swaying slightly around mid-knees, one with only a hajib on, and another in full burka. All of them were wearing salwar kamise. My guess was that one was christian or not a strictly hindu, one was practicing hindu, and two were different types of muslims. (funny that i didnt assume one of them to be an atheist.) I am learning more about Islam while here. My understanding of Islam has been at best academic- sort of removed and lacking the nuance of spirituality. I am gaining an understanding of Islam as a way of life. Watching the girls talk was refreshing in that the dance of conversation seemed fluid between them, like with old friends.

Around noon to 1:30pm you see people praying in the street. People stop what they are doing and pray. Outside of the train station you'll see rows of people seated on the ground facing the direction of Mecca and praying as hoards of people walk around them to catch the next train. Faith and life for the most part seems symbiotic in relation to one another. The merge is not self conscious- no hiding, no assertion, it just is what it is.

That said around the time of major religious days there is a certain level of tension in the air. Police presence is more prevalent and there is worry of "riot" hanging in the air at times.

Religion, faith, tradition, culture- these concepts merge in to a churning ball of fire at a person's core. This seems to lend to a dual personality, especially in the jetset. maybe i don't see the connections yet. I firmly believe that if something seems crazy to me it's because i don't know the whole story or logic. People generally do not act outside of their perosonal logic, so when i don't get something i try to understand crazy's logic.

Checking in

Hi, sorry for the long pause lovies. I needed to take as much of a break from the computer as possible. I felt like I was spending too much time staring at the screen. My eyes were starting to feel like dry marbles rolling around in my head, banging into all the tender and oh-so-fragile parts of my brain, creating massive near-migraines. Anyway, today I have three interviews to conduct for a little bitty profile of woman in the neighborhood. Should be fun. The most nerve-wracking part of this process is getting the interviews. Now that that's handled I am ready to meet some new blood. I miss conversations with strangers. I have them occasionally here, but not often at length. Though I am still meeting new folk at work, it's not the same as a surprise-of-the-day conversation.

Also, all the government hospitals in the state of Maharashtra are on strike. This includes Bombay Dream's hospital. The reason is that docs are getting beaten by their patients. So that's a littel bit of crazinees in our lives.

Time to go, will write more thoughtfully soon. Keep well all. mwah!

****************************************************************************
p.s.
story ditched. will finish writing it anyway. same topic was previously published less than a year ago.