Day 2 in Mumbai: Slums and flying men

On our second full day in Mumbai we awoke early and rented a car for the morning ($8). We saw the Gandhi museum, dobi ghat (where most of Mumbai’s clothing is washed by hand), Haji Ali mosque (where we were the only foreigners and periodically caught people sneaking pictures of us on their mobile phones when they were too timid to ask, as one large group of teenage boys did for a picture with Paul). The afternoon we went on a slum tour – an experience that was probably the most packed 4 hours of learning we have had on the trip. Home to 1 million people, this slum was recognized by the government and as such, it could not be torn down. The government provides water, electricity and schools, making it one of the most desirable places to live for the 55% of Mumbai’s population that live in slums.

Desirable was not the first word that came to my mind.

The slum is divided into commercial and residential districts. The primary industries that operate from the slum are pottery, leather making and recycling. We first toured the plastic recycling district. It quickly became apparent that the illiterate, partly-blind man sorting pens with corporate logos likely understood more about globalization and the scope of a corporate supply chain management than any U.S. college grad. Recyclable plastic was imported into the slum from parts of India, China and the U.S. There, it underwent an intensive breakdown process of separating, cleaning, cutting, drying, reshaping and coloring before it was sold back to a middle man, and then to larger companies. This was all done by barefoot men making approximately 100 Rupees ($2) a day.

The sense of community throughout the limited part of the slum we were able to see was apparent and strong. The only way to get a house within this particular slum was to know somebody. The land was saturated with homes. The walkways between the cinder-blocked homes were not bigger than a petite man’s shoulders, permitting just a crack of light to shine 3 stories below. The rats were the size of large cats. The people were busy in all different types of activity and trade. New York has been labeled the city that never sleeps, but this slum surely is the heavyweight champion for the title. Whether working, socializing, cleaning or studying – everyone was busy.

The poverty in this particular slum was neither mind-altering nor heart breaking like the kind I remember seeing while visiting Nicaragua and El Salvador in my teens. I still don’t know if that’s because I have hardened from seeing it or if because the strong sense of community buffered what would otherwise be heartbreaking. What was clear was that it was among the hardest living I have ever seen, and still people smiled. Children skipped around us.
The tour group we used, Reality Tours, was run responsibly and no more than 6 people were permitted on our tour. We were not allowed to take pictures. The six of us ended the afternoon with mud and feces caked to our feet and an overwhelming sense of our fortune.

What came next I can only describe as flying men.

We were dropped off at the train station to make our way back to central Mumbai during rush hour. We were told the train to the city would not be crowded but that we would be greeted with over-eager passengers in the Mumbai station (Churchgate) wanting to enter the train to claim a seat for the long ride out of Mumbai. Specifically, we were told to stay in our seats or in the center of the train as the most eager passengers scrambled onto the train. Once they had found seats, we could exit with ease.

We took this advice with a grain of salt. Accustomed to rush hour trains in Tokyo, how bad could the violation of personal space really be in Mumbai? As the train slowed and approached the station, Paul approached the door. The five of us waivered in-between, with me playing anchor, firmly positioned in my seat and heeding the advice of our guide.
What came next is beyond description.

Only a video would do it justice.

Mobs were not the concern.

Groups of 10-15 men came FLYING into the train-car like Spiderman. FLYING. They ran along side of the car or simply timed it correctly and leaped in while the train was still moving at about 7MPH. Paul ducked and stepped back with utter amazement splashed across his face. We could not help but laugh. There were no other large crowds to be concerned with – just the select men FLYING (and I use this word because it was not just a sprint or a leap into the car - these men pulled Super Hero like moves, all for the sake of a seat home) into the train. We exited onto a relatively empty platform.

We ended the day, our eyes full with images, at easy Leopold’s Café again with our friend Kasey, whom we met at the airport. This time we did not discuss theoretical physics. We sat in an exhausted state among a crowd of Brits watching the Roddick-Murray match (Wimbledon) until we could not fight our eyelids any longer. We collapsed for a deep 4 hours of sleep before catching our flight to Kathmandu.

I already can’t wait to return to Mumbai – maybe next time with a female shopping companion (Mom?!?!?)

Next stop: Nepal