1/3/2024 0 Comments Handshaker cotDown where the mangroves used to be the huts teeter on stilts and the filthy Bombay tide washes underneath their floor as they sleep. They have been here for longer so they’re lucky enough to have a hut made from cement- newer arrivals have to become architectural artists in the medium of corrugated metal, plastic, jute, bamboo and palm leaves. A neat little kitchen area in the corner occupies about three square feet of floor space, with modest tin dishes hung on the wall. The hotel room I’m sitting in right now is more than twice the size of Sameer’s home- he lives there with his mother and father, grandfather, sister and her 2 infants. But at the same time, ‘neighbourhood’ or ‘village’ conveys the wrong images. I don’t like the word slum sometimes- because millions of people in this city call these places home- they make these places Home by the sweat of their brow. The ‘neighbourhood’ I’ve been shown around twice so far- once by Dev, who spends most his free time there, and once by Sameer, who lives in the middle of it. I bought em a travel guitar which Dev will let them have when they’re ready- he doesn’t believe these kids should accept too many handouts because it breeds dependence which destroys confidence and ambition. I’m too late to help out with the show, so I’m teaching the young guys guitar- they’ve always wanted to learn. The kids are out of school now, so they rehearse every day. These young guys are helping kids from the different slum areas put on a show- mainly dancing. Open space is precious.Ī couple youth that live in this ‘neighbourhood’ are helping Dev out- he wants these kids to build confidence and knowledge, so he facilitates school-type learning as well as recreational sports and arts. It’s beside a vacant lot that’s a CEO’s helicopter landing pad and a popular cricket ground for the kids. Dev got a hut built on stilts in the middle of the slum beside the World Trade Center, South Bombay. He runs Down to Earth- a charity organization for slum kids. I found Dev through some googling and emailing. I didn’t want to sit around, this city needs so much help. I been down there a few times these last couple days. That’s water for nearly a week if you live in the slum. Click that little flag down outside the car. I turn the driver’s meters on myself now, though, to avoid arguments. I sit in these stuffy cabs, little hot pods trawling through the swarming madness and noise of this traffic. It’s hot in this city, I feel like I need to shower three times a day. It’s not an ending if I’m starting again.Īnother circle around the centre, the peel forming.ĭear diary, it’s been a while since I called you that. I hope this’ll be a layer I can taste until my last breath. These experiences sew themselves inside you though, a tailored onion-skin We grow inwards. These echoes are mine but it’s like trying to clutch time by the love-handles. It already feels like a clamorous muffle behind me, around the corner. I can’t wait to go back to Bombay someday. Broken or fixed.īut it’s hard to concentrate. Not much I should say when I’m as dry as the rest of these crackers. There’s not a lotta colour here the pallet is blue and gray. Rainy day coffee shops and hybrid crosses between yuppies and hippies in fleeces and lulus skiers and sailors in late-model cars so laaii-id back, so polite, Canada bland and character lite. I says to K, I says, I don’t know why people say Vancouver has no character… it definitely has a character, I just don’t know if I like it. You forget the meaning of an experience when you continue to go on about it in a meaningless way. “boy, it’s sure weird to be home.” “India was good-yeah, it was amazing. People jabber and talk jive non-stop over here so I plug up my ears like I’m building a house with my own two hands. Back to tight-fisted purse-clenching watching my foot on the gas to save the gas to save the money, pulling with all my might to make the ends meet. Back to work, some semblance of normal life hopefully I’ll learn to write for myself again, bigger pages mean bigger ideas I should buy a notebook the size of my room, sleep in the fold of a page, write words with my body language burn thoughts into the page that can be seen from space.
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