This story is from our trip to India in the summer 1993 with my two children and Adil, my sister's brother-in-law. Adil's family was from India and would travel back and forth since they had a home in Cincinnati, Ohio and in Bombay, India. We spent a week in India and a week traveling in England and Wales.
INDIA : A DIFFERENT WORLD
It was dark
when we landed in Bombay (now called Mumbai) India. After getting off the airplane we assembled
outside the terminal with our Indian family members that were there to meet us and
a friend of the family that would drive us into the city. It had been a five hour flight from London
on Malaysian Airlines. The best part of
the flight was the service. Plenty of
food and when you asked for a glass of wine they let you have the bottle. The only problem afterwards was waiting in
line to use the restroom. Once outside
the terminal a young woman locked her eyes on me. I thought she was a family member as she
reached out her hand toward me, but I was told to ignore her. She was a beggar. As we drove out of the airport we entered a
shanty town as far as the eye could see in the dark. The highway had people standing between cars
reaching their hands out as the traffic was moving slowly. Somebody in the car said, “Do not open your
windows.” Eventually we entered the
city that looked more upbeat and checked into our hotel. After waking up the next morning I looked
out the window of our room on the 4th floor and saw a hospital across the
street with a street sign indicating a no honking zone. Nobody seem to comply. There
was constant honking as cars and motor scooters made their way through the
congested traffic. It made the LA
freeways look like a walk in the park.
Over the
next few days Adil, my sister’s brother-in-law led us around the city. The streets were crowded, horns were honking
and the greatest challenge was crossing the streets. Stop lights were at the ground level and
hard to see, no overhead lights here. Cars
had no side mirrors since they were so close to each other. I never saw any traffic police. We did witness an accident where a man fell
off his motor scooter and was almost run over if it had not been for some
people that pulled him to safety. There
were soldiers with rifles posted in three sided shelters along some of the main
streets to squelch any uprisings by the lower class. Being
taller than most the people on the streets and a white male, which made me
stand out in the crowd and a beacon for the young Indian boys to pursue me for
money. Adil told me not to give them anything or they
would go tell their friends and they would be after me for more money.
Whenever we
ate in a restaurant the service was outstanding, the menus included Indian
dishes, Chinese food and Indian Pale Ale, the beverage of choice since the
water was not good to drink. If there was a need to treat dysentery there
were walk up pharmacies along the streets where one could get pills for
treatment, no prescriptions required. Emergency
rooms at hospitals had a policy of treating anybody that showed up, the only problem
was you might die waiting in line. It
was common to see some dead bodies in the streets. The bodies of the dead were placed in
overhead platforms throughout the city to decompose and let the birds feast on the
remains. There is a distinct class
system in India, those that have and those that have not. Most the poor lived on the streets or in the
shanty towns. During the nights the
street people would collect all the garbage, sort it out into different piles
for collection early the next morning and paid according to the weight of the
material, such as paper, metal, glass, plastics, etc. Rats
were common, running along the street gutters eating whatever they could
find. Once a week the upper class people
would have a street side potluck for all the street people providing them with
their best meal of the week. I believe it was a way to keep them from
rioting and something to look forward to once a week. One evening we went to visit some doctor
friends of the family living in a modern high-rise apartment building. A young boy operated the elevator and was
given a small room on the top floor for a place to sleep. We looked at his small room where there was
only a mattress on the floor with a cover, nothing else.
We took one train
trip through the city. At the main
terminal people filled the loading zones and once the train arrived the crowd
would rush into the open doors of the passenger cars. Adil told us to hang on to whatever we could
hold or we could be pushed right out the opposite door. It was standing room only. On some of our excursions the family hired a
driver with a car. The driver would
stay with the car at all times. He had
a family with many children, but would sleep in the car when necessary to
accommodate us. He was invited into a
restaurant to eat with us once I remember.
At the end of his service we tipped him generously for being so
loyal. He was very pleased and grateful.
On our
departure from the airport I had to use the restroom while waiting for the
plane. Two men followed me into the restroom
and asked if I had any Indian money. I
pulled a couple of paper bills from my pocket and gave it to them as they told
me it was illegal to take Indian currency out of the country. They were not in any uniforms and I suspect
they made a habit out of asking foreigners for Indian money before leaving the
country. There was a sense of relief
when we boarded the plane and in many ways I felt like a survivor. For my two children, who were teenagers at
the time it opened their eyes to the world.
Years later my son ended up taking a year off work and traveled around
the world with his wife on their honeymoon.
My daughter went to Brazil for a year as an exchange student, spent part
of a year living in Guatemala and traveled Europe. For
me it made me appreciate what we have in this country and how fortunate we are.
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