on the road (again...)
it’s been an unnecessarily busy few days. my sis arrived late on saturday night and immediately decided there were all sorts of things that needed to be done: this was worryingly completely polarised from my mumbai lifestyle of not leaving rich’s flat and generally doing very little. don’t get me wrong, it was great to go and see the rellys that i’d been too lazy to visit, and my kid niece is fantastically cute, but nothing really convinced me that my week of lethargy had been ill planned. especially when we ended up, at the behest of my sis who wanted to get her hair cut, in the downstairs beauty parlour of the oberoi, one of the nicest hotels in india. my sis disappeared into the nether regions of the ladies parlour, from which testicle bearers are barred, leaving me out (of place) in the lobby. covered in sweat. with a bouffant, uncut for six weeks, hairdo. wearing shorts and a beater. generally looking very out of place. after ten minutes of evil looks i cracked, and agreed to get my hair cut. i’m not going to go into it too much: all i’ll say is that the fairly budget do, accompanied by constant beater disapproval from the barber, cost me about the same as it would have in england, and more than i usually live off in a day. 500r. 500. i’m still distraught about it, much to the amusement of all those who are earning (500 rupees!)mumbai hasn’t really got much in the way of sights: its one big historical draw is the temple cave on the island of elephanta, an hour out of the harbour. i’ve seen it before but my sis was keen, so we had to leave the flat (again) and head out there. we arrived, climbed up the myriad steps, avoided the various monkeys, and were suddenly faced with a particularly arsey government ticket collector. anyone who read my delhi entry about my travails trying to get into humayun’s tomb will know what happened next: they wanted us to pay 250r, we wanted to pay the indian price of 10r (another obscene mark up), we threw various insults at him in hindi/ bangla/ english, but sadly this time round the chap was having none of it. i saw no need to pay that much (almost half a haircut) to see something for a second time so i left my sis to go in and loitered in the little clearing outside.
i spend a lot of time trying to work out my placement in the cultural matrix, to reconcile my indian and english sides. i’m always particularly keen to maintain my links here: i speak the language, i know my relatives really well, i’ve studied the history. and yet, i’m constantly treated by the government as a complete foreigner, an outsider to be extorted, be it by the airlines, the visa office, or at the historical sites. the actual indians are fine. yes they try and scam you, but they’re open to a bit of banter, interested in your diasporic experience, and actually happy that you’ve come back: not just because you have money (because let’s face it, apart from the food vendors they rarely get any of mine) but because they’re proud that someone from what they see as a privileged land is still keen to remain aligned to their home, and all the problems and orientalised difference it entails. unfortunately, the constant assaults on attempts to maintain a balanced, hybrid, existence by the government are a complete fuck you, and really undermine any sensation of still belonging: it makes you believe that physical distance is total, that emotional proximity is irrelevant. maybe i need to get back to cal to feel wanted again: the next time i get asked however, as i frequently do, whether i’m made to feel out of place in england because i’m brown, it’ll be more evident than ever that england is home for me in a way that india will never allow itself to be.
anyway, enough of this mincing. somewhat randomly, the swiss girls that we’d met in goa were coming to mumbai, and, drunkenly, rich had agreed they could stay. as he’s a professional he decided it would be very civilized to have a dinner party. as he and i both proved at pembroke however, these attempts at civil behaviour usually descend into silliness. it’s all a bit of a blur, but there were broken glasses, a broken table, and a hormonal 18 year old south african chap who caused the girls to lock themselves into one of the rooms. the fact that no one, from either side of the door, could get it to then reopen may be a testament to how much old monk had gone down.
wednesday was my final day at rich’s, and i had resolved not to leave the flat. the entire day was spent lying down, watching stupid films, and generally feeling sorry for myself. this was until darbs came home: he really, after getting to sleep at 3am and working all day, had good reason for self pity. it was an emotional last night, much to the amusement of all the ladies who never understand a good male bond. the only thing was that the jolly japes began to creep in. all through this fortnight, the cry ‘no jolly japes’ has been hegemonic: if someone passes out you don’t have to shave one of their eyebrows. if two people are kissing you don’t have to point and shout. if someone’s sunburnt, there’s no need to constantly slap them. no jolly japes basically. on this last night though I got poked, had water poured over me (a textbook jolly jape), and generally was harassed. I also discovered that mirka couldn’t pronounce j, so for her they were sholly shapes (it was the fact that i found this hilarious that led to the water pouring incident). much fun was had by all, even if jolliness was creeping in.
and that was that, the hiatus was over. we flew to ahmedabad in the morning to spend a few days with an uncle and family, my bro in law arrived this morning, and we get the train to rajasthan at midnight tonight. mumbai as a city really didn’t endear itself to me, but rich’s flat did: the last fortnight has been an excellent break, the perfect last breath before the plunge.
posted by bicrom @ 6:04 am
