by Reece Willis
I waited and waited, but couldn't go and then a dribble turned into a torrent and I let out a sigh. 'Ah, good, you managed,' Chinmay smiled a few feet away from where he squatted. We washed our hands and face and he took the jug from me and pocketed the soap. Nearby was a hillock; even that had residences perched upon the sides. We climbed to the top and watched the sun melt over the thousands of endless grey metallic rooftops.
Some streets were pitch black, others illuminated by the barest of light and if it were not for my friend, I'd be completely lost. He guided us back to his home with ease where we stayed for the rest of the evening. I told him of my travels and he told me of his life growing up in the slums. It was the early hours of the morning by the time we bedded down on the foam mattresses and within a matter of seconds, I was fast asleep.
40
Something brushed my feet. I looked over my toes and saw a rat the size of a small cat. It met my stare, twitched its whiskers and scuttled out, squeezing through the gap under the door that streamed daylight onto the ground. I looked around in case there were others, but saw only Chinmay asleep and oblivious. I closed my eyes, but only for a few minutes. An alarm sounded and Chinmay rose with a yawn, 'Good morning Sam,' he said in a sluggish voice. He rubbed his eyes and smiled, 'Did you sleep okay?
'Apart from the raised voices next door, I haven't slept that well in ages.'
'That is good. My neighbours they argue very much, but you get used to it after a while.' He stood, stretched and touched the ceiling with his fingers, 'I will make us some breakfast. I can get you back to Dadar as tour bus driver will collect us nearby for my shift.'
After the toilet run, Chinmay cracked some eggs into a pan and prepared some rotis his father had left him. He spoke of what the future held for the slums, 'I fear for our city. It may be a disgusting slum to most, but it is our home and we treasure it. More and more of those apartment blocks are rising and more areas are destroyed for new developments for the rich. Some of the residents of the slum are given the opportunity to rent an apartment, but rents are high and the spirit of the community is lost; people live behind closed doors and become strangers to each other and crime rates increase. Some who cannot afford the rents have their homes and possessions destroyed by the builders and end up living off the streets as beggars. What to do? Only the rich have the answers, but they seem to only care for themselves. There are over three hundred people a day coming into Mumbai from other states looking for hope where there is no hope to speak of.'
I looked back over Dharavi as we waited for the bus. The several emerging skyscrapers under construction towered above, throwing dark shadows across the slum. I wondered what the dawn of this new India had in wait for the city of dreams.
It was a little after nine when the bus arrived at Dadar packed with more holiday makers. Outside, Chinmay gripped me in a hug and asked me to keep in touch. 'Of course, my friend. Take care of yourself,' I said and waved the coach goodbye. I walked the short distance to Connor's apartment, had a shower and crashed until the telephone rang at lunchtime. Mrs Reveredo was on the other end panicked, asking if I was all right. I told a small lie and said that I'd spent half the night in the bathroom ill to save her the worry of where I'd really been. She invited me for lunch and said she would prepare a remedy for my stomach.
Mrs Reveredo didn't stay long, so I was kept company by Patrice who told me about the college where she studied medicine in hope of becoming a doctor. Tatiana came around later and the three of us went to a fifties style American restaurant where we ate masala dosa. It was lovely, not only the food, but the company the girls provided. They were always so polite, positive and eager to find out more about my life, and I theirs in Mumbai. On the way back to the family home, we stopped off at a street stall and drank a sweet bottle of masala milk with chopped almonds. Mumbai was certainly sizing up to be the most delicious of cities.
Arriving back at the house I was elated to see Connor.
'I'm so sorry, dude,' he said as he emptied his pack. 'I got caught up in Manali, and to be honest, I wasn't sure you'd actually come, but I'm so glad you did. What's been happening with you since you left Leh?'
I told him about Kargil and Kashmir and the unexpected charas on route to Jammu, the train journey and even about Dharavi. Lastly, I told him how fantastic his family had been. In exchange, he told me that Radhika had mislaid her backpack and thus they were delayed. They were slowly patching things up, but it was going to take time. The spark of travel was still in his eyes as he spoke of how much he missed the north and how he wanted to visit Nepal soon. 'I'm glad to be home,' he said, 'but I miss the adventure and freedom so much. It was so amazing up there.'
His mood lightened throughout the evening once we got back to his apartment. With Megadeth in the background we spoke some more about the Himalayas and laughed over tales of Ali and his forty flutes. Later, deciding on an evening walk, we ambled along the streets slated silver by the moonlight and an occasional haunting glow of a street lamp. A scattering of people slept on the pavements; the lucky on charpoys. In an upper class Parsi colony, Connor and I found a bench in a public garden surrounded by three-storey Victorian homes. He advised me to keep my voice down to discourage any unwanted attention from the police who patrolled the streets at night.
'They'll find any reason to bust someone,’ he said with a look of fear in his eyes. 'They treat some people so badly, yaar, especially the street kids. They beat and arrest them for no reason at all. Six months ago, I came back from work late with my cousin and we were chased by a drunk cop. He managed to catch my cousin and hit him so hard with his lathi that he couldn't walk for a week. We'd done nothing wrong, man.' Through my experience with the police in Paharganj, I could well believe it.
Lajni served us brunch at the family home. When she walked back to the kitchen, I enquired with Connor how she came into service for the Reveredos. 'My mother found her living under the stairs leading up to the house with her husband and young daughter. They hadn't been there long. They were in a such a poor state of health and were very thin. My mother employed Lajni as a maid and cleaner, and her husband was employed as a handyman and gardener. He now has several other jobs with neighbours too. Mum found them a small apartment not far from mine and a good school for their daughter.'
'Where's your father, if you don't mind me asking?'
'He expired five years ago. He had a large pharmaceutical business and the house and all the money was left to my mother. She has raised us really well and only ever wanted the best for us. She does a great deal for the poor. She works tirelessly for the homeless children of Mumbai and tries to support their education and wellbeing.' He stretched back from the filling meal, 'She came from nothing herself, yaar – a poor village girl from outside Bangalore. My father met her when he was on business and they fell in love instantly. They were amazing together.' His eyes reflected the loss of his father and he changed the subject, 'Did you bring your washing with you?'
'Yes, is it still okay to use the washing machine here?'
'Of course. Hand your clothes to Lajni, she'll take care of them.'
It was the 15th August and the celebration of forty-nine years of independence from British rule in India. Everybody on the streets was in high spirits: some singing the national anthem, Jana Gana Mana, at the top of their voices; others holding aloft the national flag: a horizontal tricolor of saffron, white and green with a navy spoked wheel representing the chakra at the centre. Connor and I boarded a train to Victoria Terminus Railway Station. A fusion of Victorian Italianate Gothic Revival and Indian architecture and centrally crowned with an octagonal ribbed dome, it looked more like a palace than any train station I'd seen before. It was renamed to Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus earlier in the year.
A little on from Churchgate we departed a local train and walked the rest of the way to a rock concert to mark Independence Day. With the amount of people ahead of us in the queue as we arrived it didn't look like we had any chance of get
ting in. Connor came up with a plan, 'Go to the front and tell security you're a British journalist covering the show and I'm your translator.'
I wasn't so sure, 'You think they'll fall for it?'
With a gentle nudge, I left the line with Connor in my shadow. I reached one of the stocky guards expecting rejection, but miraculously we were waved through without question. Connor gave me a hearty slap on the back and laughed, 'See dude, you get nothing in this life unless you try.'
Of the three bands that played us into the night, it was the last I liked the most, covering music I knew; Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains and Nirvana. I was so impressed by the guitarist that I never took my eyes away from his fingers, trying to pick up some ideas for myself. He must have noticed and beckoned me on to the stage. Looking around I saw that I was the only white face in the crowd. Were the band aware of my so-called journalist status? A security guard guided me up to the side of the stage where I began to take photographs. I felt like a real VIP.
After the penultimate number, the lead singer made a speech in Hindi, I'm guessing something to do with Independence, which sent the crowd into a frenzy for the final song, also in Hindi. As they left the stage to deafening cheers, the guitarist shook my hand and gave me his plectrum, 'Hey man,' he said. 'I take it you play guitar. Maybe some of today can rub off on your playing.'
'Bloody hell, that was awesome,' I shouted above the roar as I returned to Connor.
'What?' he yelled back, laughing. 'I think I've gone deaf, yaar.'
Connor was finishing up writing some music at his flat for an up and coming charity benefit. 'Hey dude,' he said, placing his pen down. 'How did lunch go?'
'Yeah, great.’ I had spent the morning with Radhika and we then went to lunch at a classy restaurant overlooking the sea.
'Cool. I want you to meet a really good friend of mine tonight, you'll like him a lot.'
An hour or so later we arrived at Buzz's apartment. From the outside, the building looked on the verge of demolition, but I was surprised to find the opposite as we were invited into a beautiful home that was deceivingly spacious. Marbled flooring and newly decorated hallways and rooms with modern furniture and fittings, we made ourselves comfortable in the lounge whilst Buzz prepared a cold mango juice for us. He reminded me of Connor, but older, with shoulder length dreadlocks. He had a look about him that told me he'd seen a lot in life, and that was indeed the case as I looked around at photos in silver frames of him with various musicians. Some I didn't recognise, but I caught a glimpse of him standing alongside Maxi Priest and on stage playing guitar with Bob Marley’s Wailers who he toured with for years. Clearly this guy had done well in life.
'Wow, that's pretty impressive,' I said.
He smiled and said thanks as if this wasn't the first time he'd been asked about it.
He shouted down the hallway to his wife that we were going out and to not wait up. He drove us in his white hatchback to a bar overlooking the moonlit sands of Chowpatty Beach. Inside a drunk girl was participating in karaoke, attempting to sing Mariah Carey’s Hero. Connor called over with a frown, 'Hey, let's go to the dressing rooms. One of Mumbai's best jazz bands haven't long finished, they should still be hanging around.'
It was clear that Buzz and Connor were good friends with the band. I stood in the smoke congested room as the guys briefly caught up with each other. Lucas, the guitarist must have been in his late thirties as was Henry the singer. I warmed to them straight away as they welcomed me into the fold as if I was an old friend. ‘Joint?’ Lucas said, passing over the half smoked spliff in his hand. ‘Whiskey?’ laughed Henry offering up a half-filled tumbler.
'I'll relieve you of the joint, but pass on the whiskey, cheers.'
Out into the night, the five of us piled into Buzz's car, hitting the streets at speed, stopping off at a few late opening liqueur houses along the way. I'd never laughed as much as I did that night; my stomach ached and tears streamed down my face. It had just gone 5am by the time we came to a stop. Buzz leant over from the steering wheel to face me, 'I think you're gonna like this.'
'Huh?' I said, my eyes heavy with the dope.
'You'll see,' Connor replied.
I waited patiently, intrigued to find out what an earth they were going on about. And then, just as the light gradually made an appearance, with it brought one of those unforgettable moments. The silhouette of an enormous rusted cargo ship emerged grounded on the rocks.
Connor saw the awe in my face, my mouth open, my eyes wide wonder-struck. I could hardly believe what I was seeing, enhanced no doubt by the smoking. 'Haha, yeah dude. It was wrecked a few years back and hasn't been pulled free yet,' he said, finishing his last beer as the light shed further detail across the hulk.
Transfixed, I nearly jumped out of my seat to a knock on the window and a street cleaner who smiled with his hand open, a delicate white and yellow flower in his palm. He handed it to me, 'Frangipani, smell, smell,' he said. His grin widened as my eyes lit with the fruitiness of the most beautiful perfume. If heaven had an aroma, this was it. He waggled his head and continued sweeping as Buzz started the engine.
Buzz, Lucas and Henry left us at Dadar station. Connor put his arm around my shoulder, 'Great night, yaar. Breakfast?'
We grabbed some omelettes and some chai in a small café. There was chatter and laughter coming from some local guys in the seat behind. I paid it no attention, but Connor swung round and barked something in Marathi which altered their faces into stunned silence. He turned around and resumed eating.
'What was that about?'
'They were making fun of us. They thought we both tourists, but I put them straight.'
Whilst Connor slept I sat in his living room going over the same old ground I'd travelled so many times before. Despite one of the best nights of my life, my past was still present and the future for my grandfather hung in the balance. It was in a way a blessing Connor had to work as I wanted to be alone again and see a bit more of India before I went home.
Radhika was waiting in a running taxi outside. I managed to get maybe four hours’ sleep, but felt surprisingly awake.
'Bit of a late night yaar?' she said as we pulled away.
'You heard then?' I laughed.
She remained impassive, 'I worry for him, Sam. I guess I want him to settle down you know, take our relationship more seriously.' The driver began humming and beating out a rhythm on his horn. She looked sideways at him irritated.
'I'm so sorry. You guys are trying to patch things up and I go and spend a crazy night out with him.'
'It has nothing to do with you, he is like this all the time. I'm hanging on to thin air don't you think?'
'Maybe, but maybe not. He genuinely does love and respect you. His eyes light up whenever he talks about you.' Hers illuminated as I said this. 'The problem with Connor is his head is filled with a million and one things he wants to do with his life. I've got to admire him for that, but I can see how you may feel somewhat left out. It's so difficult. But I do think there's a future for you guys and if anyone can pin him down, it will be you and you only.'
Her eyes welled, silent tears fell. She held my hand and squeezed, 'Thank you.'
Checking her compact, she recomposed herself and spoke to the driver. We came to a stop along a main road near Juhu. 'Come,' she said.
An aroma of sandalwood guided us through the lanes, moving us with a tide of faces, drawing us into a chamber of waxwork deities, flickering shadows behind. Chanting held me mesmerized. Orange robed devotees rocked back and forth in homage to a lifelike statue of Lord Krishna draped in gold. A priest held out an aarti lamp, offering it to worshippers. Radhika ran her cupped hands over the naked flame and raised them to her forehead in blessing.
'To remove the darkness from our lives,' she said as we left.
She stopped at a pharmacist. Next door was a travel agent. I said I'd be back in five minutes. Within three I was back outside, a ticket for a bus to Goa in my hand.
'You are l
eaving?' she asked.
'For a short while. I need to lift a little darkness myself.'
'Ahhhh, babaaa.' I nearly walked straight into him. He was naked. The skinniest person I'd ever seen. I took a step back as he lunged towards me, his legs barely able to carry him. I gave him some money, Radhika the same. He took the notes, lurched past us, eyes vacant, bones jutting out from shrink wrapped skin.
Sipping our drinks in a café in Colaba, normal conversation felt awkward and out of place. 'I don't know how to be,' I said, my thoughts spilling over the silence. I looked up, saved her the trouble before she questioned me, 'I know I have to live my life and all that, but that guy, he was what our age, maybe younger? Where are these gods to allow that to happen? Don't worry, I don't expect answers; reincarnation, fate, blah, blah. Someone will always have an answer, but there doesn't seem to be many solutions.'
'I think you need to speak with Mrs Reveredo. Maybe she will help you with what you seek.'
I never saw Mrs Reveredo before I left. In the headlights of the bus the rain fell. Connor, Radhika and I stood soaked. He leant forward, arm out and we embraced. 'Seven days then, yaar?'
'Seven days.'
41
The rumble of tyres brought me to with a start. Bowing palms, fields jade under a slate sky, the occasional white church standing as a reminder of Portuguese rule. The rain hadn't let up all night, the land ever wet with the pressing monsoon. This road was known to be notorious but I'd slept through for the most part without giving it a second thought.
Sitting up I adjusted myself, briefly exchanging eye contact with the lady in red next to me, moment enough to notice her elaborate gold earring attached to a chain and draped to a piercing in her nose. On her lap lay an empty silver vase which she held with hands far too old for her age. Between her sandalled feet, a jute sack; stuffed full and tied with a frayed cord.