pixpopuli – blog

At breakfast, the explanation of the serious key problem was revealed to me. Apparently, Saali had gone upstairs to see if I wanted to come down for dinner. She found the outer door locked, and so knocked. The servant of Mr and Mrs N. heard her knocking, but had no key, so went to the inner door to ask me to open the outer. Meanwhile, Saali gave up, and went back downstairs to get help. I came and unlocked the outer door, only to find nobody there, and went back to sleep. Saali came back with one of the servants of Mrs S. He tried the door, and of course it opened immediately, and Saali got to look foolish. Then she came in and woke me up. (I’m still not entirely sure if this is entirely the correct sequence of events, but it’s the best I can put together now.)

We planned to spend today shopping, and visiting one of the family businesses with Priya. She sent her driver to fetch us from Chez S and drive us there. He took us through a series of narrow winding streets, and we were ultimately admitted through iron gates into a compound that used to be a textile mill, but is now being transformed into a film and TV production facility.

Priya, who is a cinematographer by profession, has been working on this project, managing the renovations as well as the production business. When we arrived, she greeted us with tubes of cream and directed us to apply it to our skin. I thought it was sun block, but she said it was to protect against malaria carrying mosquitoes. This was one of many similar moments we experienced in India: moments which make you think “we’re not in Kansas any more”. Later we learned that she had recently contracted malaria, and was very ill with it, so it makes sense she would be vigilant.

Another such moment came when I learned that her brother Vikram had recently contracted Dengue fever. He shrugged, saying it’s quite common and generally not that serious, and he’s probably right. It just sounds so exotic, which is OK for dancers, but not for diseases.

So we dutifully applied our mosquito repellent, and Priya began to show us around the facility. There are multiple buildings in various stages of transformation. Some are already in use for shooting TV shows. In one building, we encountered these construction workers taking a meal break in one of the partially renovated buildings. Notice that no-one is wearing jeans, or any clothing bearing a logo. We were impressed by this everywhere we went. In another building, we saw a TV show being filmed. We tiptoed in past a bored looking sound guy at a makeshift mixing console, with cables snaking across the floor into another room where they were shooting what appeared to be a soap opera.

Our tour was interrupted from time to time as Priya took phone calls, or men (Priya seemed to be the only woman present, apart from an actress) came up to consult with her about the renovations. It was quite hot outside, though cool in the shade. We were given bottled water to drink, and Priya showed us a vegetable garden that had been put in at the request of Mr S. Business is business, but in India it seems food is never far from one’s thoughts. Saali loves weeding, and eyed the garden wistfully, but managed to restrain herself.

At this point, our tour was almost over, and we were to go to lunch. Priya had some business to attend to first, and Saali and Flo had wandered off somewhere. I stood in the shade of a large tree and waited. Two women approached me, with a little girl in tow. I guessed one was the little girl’s mother, and the other perhaps her grandmother.

They were all dressed beautifully in bright colors, and came right up to me as I stood waiting. The little girl looked at me, and said in perfect English, “How are you today, Uncle?”. It was quite disarming, and more than a little bewildering, and I’m sure I paused for an impolite length of time before I responded that I was well thank you, and asked how she was in return. After a slight prompt from her mother, she said she was well too. Then they took their leave, and walked on. Outside the gate, a man rode by on a bicycle calling “Needle-Wallah Needle-Wallah Needle-Wallah”. Once again, that “not in Kansas” feeling.

Priya took us to lunch at Gajalee, a popular seafood restaurant where we ate crab and tandoori pomfret. The waiter bought the crab, still alive, and the pomfret to our table for us to judge their freshness before they were cooked. The food was delicious, especially the pomfret, a Mumbai specilaity. Afterwards we did some more fabric shopping before going to see Priya’s new apartment. Here, Flo amd Saali rest while Priya arranges for them to be tortured by a Thai masseuse.

Their massage was to take about an hour, and we decided that I would use the time to walk around the area to take pictues. The spa was in a very crowded mixed business and residential district. It was late afternoon, and the streets were jammed with people and traffic. I was still far from comfortable taking pictures, and once again overwhelmed by the sheer visual complexity of the surroundings. Normally I find such complexity and chaos a source of creative energy, but as had happened the previous day, I had to walk around and concentrate hard before I began to see it properly. I shot a dozen or so frames, but only a few were keepers. If you click on these larger images, you can see a higher resolution version.


Chaos in Mumbai. Glossy canopy of auto rickshaw, A.K.A Tuk-Tuk, in foreground.


Same location, public transport.

At one point, I was leaning against a building, and felt something touch my hand. A small boy was standing close to me, with his fingers touching my wedding ring and feeling the sleeve of my shirt. There was something furtive about him, something creepy and unsettling. Like the little girl had earlier, he addressed me as “Uncle”, but there was nothing respectful about it. He asked the usual questions: Where are you from, first time in India, how long have you been here, etc. He wasn’t begging, didn’t seem to want anything and soon left me alone. Shortly after, I saw him again, by the stall of a street vendor. One man held him down on the ground, while the vendor went through his pockets, pulling out items he had stolen.

All around were stalls selling shoes, clothing, trinkets, and all kinds of unfamiliar eatables. All the food stalls were crowded, doing brisk business. The man below approached me, wanting to shine my shoes for 20 Rupees. I didn’t want them cleaned, and was feeling mistrustful after the pickpocket. He was very insistent, and stayed a while asking me the questions, telling me his story. I liked him.


Shoe shine man, KFC franchise, Mumbai.

I kept saying no, and he eventually he gave up, said he would pray for me, and walked off. I regretted that I had become so defensive after the pickpocket brat, and wanted this encounter to end differently. So I called him back, offering him 50 Rupees to pose for this picture.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, March 9th, 2010 at 9:55 am and is filed under India. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.