Salesmen Redemption

​I love The Lonely Planet guide books. 

One of the things I planned to do in Aurangabad was to visit the Himroo Textile Factory. But this time, I was armed with my trusty Lonely Planet guide book. So before I even arrived I reached out to Imran Ahmed Qureshi, the owner of the AUTHENTIC hand looms in Aurangabad clearly identified in the book. He graciously sent his son to pick us up at our hotel. I learned that he is the sixth generation to own this one of a kind business. 

We had a great tour and I learned all about how these beautiful shawls are made by hand. It takes weeks to make just a few meters of the gorgeous woven fabric. And the fabrics are covered with lovely silk images from the ancient culture they hail from. Needless to say, I girded myself for the huge price tag that must come from such generous labor.

Imran showed us a multitude of shawls and wall hangings. I fell in love with a colorful mandala patterned table runner and found another one for my daughter to display in her new house. And I was grateful to pay less than I paid for the amethyst geode ripoff. 

I like to think that perhaps the universe gave me this experience to soothe my troubled ego from the prior shopping on this trip.

An Easy Mark

​I suspect I’m not the first person to get caught up in an Indian ripoff in Aurangabad. My first mistake was going into the store at all. My second mistake was not being prepared once I got sucked into the vortex of these “exceptional” salesmen. My third mistake was not haggling. Very seldom do I haggle in the USA. I can’t offer less for groceries or clothing or pretty much anything. 

I also just don’t like the whole process. I make a counter offer and pretty soon I’m buying EVEN MORE stuff. I generally like people and want to get along. That makes me an easy mark for any of the experts at the entrance to the Ellora Caves. 

So, yes. I paid too much for a beautiful amethyst geode. And yes, I spent the next 24 hrs beating myself up. With a rip off, there’s the financial cost, but there’s also the emotional cost. Reliving the scenario over and over again. Recognizing the obvious signs of the cheat after the fact. Having conversations with absent people. Ugh! 

I learned a tough lesson that day and am looking forward to showing off my new purchase and sharing the story of my shame with friends and family. And I do really like my new amethyst geode 🥰

Kids Grow Up

​Our last visit to Ganeshpuri was 10 years ago. We made some special friends in this little ashram village. It is the home of three gurus, Nityananda, Muhktananda and Guru Maya. These spiritual leaders are what brought John to Ganeshpuri in the first place. I came along for the ride and made some special friends. 

We always stay at GuruPrasad Guest House, owned by Dinesh Patil. This friendly Homestay includes a charming family of siblings, cousins, Ammas, Papas, aunties, uncles and all the rest. 

On my first visit I met Dinesh’s kids, Sameer and Deviani. Deviani was a spunky little 8 yr old with a radiant smile and an abundance of curiosity. Not much has changed with her. She is beautiful and driven. Our visit included lovely conversations about her life plans and philosophy. 

Sameer, her older brother, was there as well. He was a somewhat withdrawn little boy all those years ago, but this visit revealed an enthusiastic young man who loved his spiritual life and travel. 

While there were many special moments in this visit. Seeing how gracefully these two kids grew up was a big highlight.

Communication Challenges

​My sister was always the barber in the family. She would sit John down in the kitchen and work her magic. Ever since she died, he’s been resistant to getting haircuts. 

In the tiny village where we were staying, he decided to be spontaneous at the “strong” encouragement of a local barber. 

So away we were swept to his “shop” and he began his “magic”. The haircut went pretty well and he said “just little” about John’s beard. We both said, “Yes, just a trim”. 

Unfortunately, a little is a lot in marachi (his native tongue) and more unfortunately, he managed to shave off half of John’s face before we could course correct. 

I love John’s beard and I will miss it for the next few weeks, but there’s no turning back once half the beard is gone. 

I only wish my sister was alive to laugh with us.

So Many Men

​At the risk of sounding sexist, I have to speak to the disproportion of men to women here on the streets of Mumbai. As a woman, I noticed the challenge of making connections out on our stroll in search of Aram Vada Pav, a street food vendor, in Fort, near Colaba. 

Being “from away” only adds to the challenge as I desperately grab John’s hand whenever we need to cross the street. I fear for our lives with every attempt at crossing. 

The best practice has been to walk closely to a clearly confident person crossing over. If only a video could capture the fear in my eyes upon each cross. 

But also, being “from away” makes us a bit of a curiosity to others. I’m aware of being stared at. But I’m not sure why. When I do make visual contact with one of the occasional women I see, I feel an interesting sense of connection. I also feel an admiration at her courage to navigate this overwhelming city so independently. 

When we arrived at Aram Vada Pav, there was a huge crowd all ordering the delicious potato sandwiches. When I looked at the menu, it was completely written in Hindi. I had no idea how to order, or what to order or how to pay.

Finally, I asked the “one woman” in the crowd if she spoke English and, of course, she did. “Can you please help us order?” She proceeded to order, help us pay and give us perfect instructions on how to collect our treats. Without her, the experience would have been daunting. 

Cheers for the smart, brave and confident women of Mumbai! 

Mumbai … please!

​When John said he really wanted to go to India, my first thought was “it’s so far and so long”. Now that I’m on the bus heading to Boston, I’m just praying the BLIZZARD doesn’t interfere. 

But I’m ready. I WANT to go to India. It’s been a hard year for so many reasons and I’m looking forward to the enthusiasm of Indian folks. The sheer joy of the moment. 

Our flight couldn’t have gone any better! We had any empty seat between us on BOTH legs of our flight. Arrivals were ahead of schedule.

Stepping out into the rank fumes of Mumbai was somehow reassuringly familiar. I’ve come a long way from that first visit to Mumbai nearly 10 years ago when I holed up in my hotel room and cried for two days! Yes. Arrival in Mumbai felt nostalgic and welcoming. 

We are staying in Colaba for two days and a quick stroll turned up our old friend Shankar. He is a cobbler with a small business out on the road. His vibrant smile and joyful gratitude first attracted our attention ten years ago and we have been keeping in touch over the years. During this visit we look forward to meeting his wife and seven children!

I woke up at 5:30 am (wide awake) thanks to the absolutely bizarre experience of flying across the world. But the schedule was on our side having arrived in Mumbai at night. 

My goal for the day is to have Vada Pav and check out if this incredible kabob spot is still around later tonight. 

Mumbai

No matter how much I think it will be different, Mumbai still beats the shit out of me. First time I holed up and cried and wouldn't leave my room for two days. Second time, I just flew into Cochin instead. This time I thought I could take it. I was wrong.
I'm primarily overtaken by the sensory overload.
First and foremost there is a constant acrid smell. I was walking by the ritziest hotel in Mumbai and I'm overtaken by the smell of raw sewage. I'm in my hotel room and the acrid scent of burning trash wafts into my window and it's relentless. We go to a rooftop restaurant to "get away" from it all, but the smells rise and the gasoline and diesel is particularly strong. It literally hurts to breathe.
Then there is the constant presence of noise horns constantly honking. Engines rumbling. At night the black crows caw without stop.
Then there are all the humans. So many of them. The men stare for unusually long periods of time. And there are so many men! I welcome the occasional and friendly gaze of a woman.

And there is the constant presence of want. Desperate want! Relentless and desperate need.
Then...of course...there is me with all the stories in my head. The narratives that exacerbate each decision I make. Each look has meaning that I'm inventing.
My body hurts too, because I'm stiff and out of shape and I'm climbing steps and lugging backpacks and walking a lot. And the emotional stress of it all is complicating it even further.
Then there is the JET LAG. Exhausted in the day and waking up at 3 AM, wide awake..
And just when I think I've had enough and I'm ready to leave this horrifying place...

India happens. The refreshing exuberant nature of Indian people.

We decided to take the ferry out to Elephanta Island, which is just off the coast of Mumbai. It is very cool with amazing and ancient sculptures built into ancient caves. But the trip itself is even more refreshing and amazing. Floating across the ocean,  the air is "almost" fresh. While we are on the ferry, we meet Indians on vacation. Their joy and enthusiasm is delightful and unique. Truly unlike anything I have ever come across in the US. They ask us the familiar, "Where from?"  And the flood gate of questions, selfies, introductions suddenly opens.  I meet a family from Hyderabad that wants to teach me Bollywood dance moves. And I say yes, so there I am, the fat American, wagging her hips to the joy of my instructors . Then I meet two Muslim girls who speak impeccable English and the conversation ends with "We are friends now?" And, of course, a selfie. And I suddenly feel as if I have found the answer to world peace.

The absence of  boundaries is refreshing and exotic to me, just like my being an American seems exotic to them. It's all very ironic I guess.

Finally, the excitement dissipates with my inability to speak any Hindi other than what is your name and I settle in to watching the excited and innocent joy of laughter, dancing and feeding the flock of seagulls that fly alongside the boat and I realize at last I have arrived in Mumbai.