Day 1, Mumbai India begins now! What ended up being a last minute trip decision, after 2 full days of a back and forth pinball game between reason and adventure, adventure won. It won because this place is like no other, and when you've been once (I was here in 2006) the land begins to whisper for you to come back. You yearn for your skin to be permeated again by the the heat and smell of Mumbai. Gregory David Roberts, in his novel Shantaram sums up wonderfully that very odor, which fills the air and comforts my psyche:
“The first thing I noticed about Bombay, on that first day, was the smell of the different air. I could smell it before I saw or heard anything of India, even as I walked along the umbilical corridor that connected the plane to the airport. I was excited and delighted by it… but I didn’t and couldn’t recognize it. I know now that it’s the sweet, sweating smell of hope, which is the opposite of hate; and it’s the sour stifled smell of greed, which is the opposite of love. It’s the smell of gods, demons, empires, and civilizations in resurrection and decay… It smells of the stir and sleep and waste of sixty million animals, more than half of them humans and rats. It smells of heartbreak, and the struggle to live, and of the crucial failures and loves that produce our courage. It smells of ten thousand restaurants, five thousand temples, shrines, churches, and mosques, and of a hundred bazaars devoted exclusively to perfumes, spices, incense, and freshly cut flowers… the worst good smell in the world."
I am overjoyed to be back here, in a place so far away from home, yet where I feel so strangely comfortable and centered. It is truly a place one needs to experience to understand, and not just for a day. Each passing week allows it to penetrate your skin a little more and, when you do leave, a piece of it remains affixed to your heart forever.
Now I have to go open my pores and let some life in. Will update more later, including pictures. Namaste!
“The first thing I noticed about Bombay, on that first day, was the smell of the different air. I could smell it before I saw or heard anything of India, even as I walked along the umbilical corridor that connected the plane to the airport. I was excited and delighted by it… but I didn’t and couldn’t recognize it. I know now that it’s the sweet, sweating smell of hope, which is the opposite of hate; and it’s the sour stifled smell of greed, which is the opposite of love. It’s the smell of gods, demons, empires, and civilizations in resurrection and decay… It smells of the stir and sleep and waste of sixty million animals, more than half of them humans and rats. It smells of heartbreak, and the struggle to live, and of the crucial failures and loves that produce our courage. It smells of ten thousand restaurants, five thousand temples, shrines, churches, and mosques, and of a hundred bazaars devoted exclusively to perfumes, spices, incense, and freshly cut flowers… the worst good smell in the world."
I am overjoyed to be back here, in a place so far away from home, yet where I feel so strangely comfortable and centered. It is truly a place one needs to experience to understand, and not just for a day. Each passing week allows it to penetrate your skin a little more and, when you do leave, a piece of it remains affixed to your heart forever.
Now I have to go open my pores and let some life in. Will update more later, including pictures. Namaste!
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