Bombay

The drive from Pune to Bombay was the easiest so far. Three hours on fairly good roads and a pleasant conversation with a Canadian girl who sits across the aisle from me. Yes, I've moved to the back of the bus and I now sit next to a lovely Spanish lady. Her energy/temperament is calm and soothing, just what a pita (fire) personality like me needs. We are staying at an Ashram in what I call Ashram row. It's on a hill not far from Nerul West train station, alas two to three hours to the famous arch known as the Gateway to India. Bombay is a huge city of some twenty million people and the most mind boggling mix of poverty and opulence. And pollution. A hazy aura hangs permanently over the city, but I still find wearing a dust mask too cumbersome. My lungs and throat feel the strain though. Delhi is still two weeks away but a number of people could not wait that long to develop Delhi Belly. I will not talk here of the intimately shared bathroom confidences, and I assure you that I could write a whole chapter or two on the subject. But I am still chuckling at two of my own experiences during our routine stops on long bus journeys. One was at night; I thought I had spotted the perfect "bush" only to find as I came closer that this bush mooed and looked at me in the eyes. Another time, upon hearing that I needed a bush, an Israeli girl asked me "Do you need big or small?" I hesitated a second while I translated the question in my mind and then said:"Small." "Ok, I have," she replied. "Follow me." Anyway, touch wood and not too much of the saucy, oily food, Delhi Belly has not affected me yet.

I like being in Bombay, because there are shops, restaurants and a city energy that makes one want to be out and about. So much for wanting to come to India for a bit of introspection. I got on a rickshaw with my French friend Miriam, and we went to a place called Barrista where I paid one hundred and seven Rupees for a cold latte with whipped cream. Sitting outside we saw Lars and Kaivalya drive by on another rickshaw, and when they saw us they immediately got off. For the same distance they paid their rickshaw driver ten Rupees while we paid twenty. Within half an hour we were joined by four more people including a young couple from Staten Island. After my hundred and seven Rupee coffee, I crossed the road and had a delicious four Rupee, freshly squeezed sugar cane juice with lemon but no ice, thank you. My friend Nancy from Scranton, PA is leaving tomorrow, but my friend Nancy from NY arrived last night for the second half of the tour.
I am looking at a bay from the balcony of the hall I share with the other hundred and fifty women on the tour. Someone is playing the guitar. Lars has been called away to treat a severe case of vomiting and diarrhea. When he comes back a group of us will walk down the hill to the other side of the station to a hole in the wall that makes the most scrumptious lassis I've ever had. At six o'clock this evening, I will do my share of veggie chopping. Balancing the chopping board on my knees as I have done several times now, I will reflect on the fact that the crux of the problem is a matter of balance. Life itself is all about striking the right balance.

Lassi, here I come.
Esmeralda