Crossing the Street

I've been meaning to write about the traffic and crossing the street here in Mumbai for quite awhile. During a recent professional development event (ASB Unplugged conference) , I was lucky enough to be sitting next to a good friend and colleague, Megan in a cinematic narrative workshop by Jim Sill. Great speaker and good session and I really like the approach and the opportunities for use in education. We were tasked with telling a story in a short movie using 4 shots: an establishing shot, a long shot, a medium shot, and a close up.  Great speaker and good session and I really like the approach and the opportunities for use in education.

I chose to show how to cross the street in Mumbai. A couple of notes about this:

1) The corner we're using is the one nearest our school and apartment
2) It was shot mid-morning - a very quiet time of day in the neighborhood. 
    The good news about that is that it made it a little easier to shoot without getting run over.
    The bad news is that it really doesn't show how tough it can be.
3) I had a little difficulty with the sound - the crossing clip sound was messed up so I copied some audio and replayed it ;-)
4) Thanks to Megan for her patience and great acting !

So this is my first attempt to include a little movie clip in the blog. Hopefully it will work OK.

Day 11 of the festival, Ganesh Chaturthi

Juhu beach

Juhu Beach is a long beach.  It is a wide beach, too, especially at low tide.  Usually the beach is crowded with young men playing cricket.  But today is different. This afternoon the beach is crowded with families. Among the families there are the ever present gangs of young men—loud, laughing, their arms draped casually around each other’s shoulders. There are also the beggar children too. They are aggressive.  They paw at you, nimbly skip in front of you so you have to do a strange dance to keep moving forward. They persist until they hear a loud, firm “NEY! NEY!”

Auspicious decay

The first thing I notice as we walk along the beach are the many Ganesha statues that are scattered along the beach.  These are the statues that were immersed on auspicious days 1, 3, 5, 7 and 9. They have washed back on shore with lost limbs. The heavier ones are half buried in craters—treasures sunken in the sand. Sometimes we see a lonely ear, hand, or trunk. 

Who is Ganesha?  He is the elephant god. He is the god of new beginnings and the remover of obstacles. He is my favorite god. He was a mischievous child. He is affectionately called Ganapati Bapa. He’s the kind of god you meet and you like him right away.  You want to invite him to a party and get to know him better. I think he must enjoy this festival very much because it is one big citywide party.

Happy family

Tim and I hear chanting. Families are bringing their Ganapati (Ganesha) statues to the beach to be immersed. The families are kind and open.  They welcome our curious stares. The Ganapatis are adorned with strings of bright beads, pearls, greenery, and flowers. One family invites us into their worship. The dia (a small lamp with ghee) is lit and burning incense is waved as the family says puja (prayers.)  Puffed rice treats with sticky peanut brittle is offered.  Tim eats his and I slyly slip him my handful. Next we are offered the bananas that were laid before Ganesha. The women lovingly remove the ornaments from Ganesha, the men pick him up, and they head for the water. They all go into the water with Ganesha, but the men go farther out.  When they reach chest high, they dip Ganesha three times and on the third dip, they push him out to sea—released into the water. 

More statues are arriving. These statues are larger.  They are carried by groups of loud, raucous  men. The men are wearing t-shirts stained with red powder. One man shouts “Ganapati Bapa!”  The crowd shouts in reply, “Moria!”  We join in. “Moria!” we shout with enthusiasm as the chant begins with “Ganapati Bapa!”  This statue is 7 feet high.  The men are weighed down by its massive orange body, but it does not dampen their spirits. They are honoring Ganesha with their enthusiasm and volume. 

By 7:00, Tim and I decide it is time to go home.  The beach is getting more and more crowded.  The mood is changing from a family atmosphere to Mardi Gras. The road we came on has been changed from a two way street into one way towards the beach. Huge lorries carrying even bigger Ganapati statues, plus men and boys sitting, standing, hanging on are lumbering towards the beach.  Something hits my face.  It stings.  It is only flowers, but they were thrown with force.  It is time to go home.

Tim starts walking with purpose.  He is parting the Red Sea of people by the size of his body. We become separated. I try to push forward too.  I look anxiously for Tim.  How did he get to the other side of the street? I shout for him to stop, but he doesn’t hear me. Finally, he stops and looks for me.  When I reach him, I cling to his backpack like a little child. We find a lighted corner near a policeman and wait for Rakesh to find us.

When we see his car, we dive into the coolness, safety, and peace. Our tiny capsule of calm crawls forward.  People walking, motorcycles, trucks are inches from my face. I watch them through the glass. I see a truck that is decorated with palm branches. My mind wanders . . . Palm branches in a parade.  A ride to Jerusalem with a chorus of “Hallelujah!”  and people waving palm branches. A ride to the beach on lorries decorated with palm branches with a chorus of “Moria!” Baptism— immersion in water. A symbol of new life. Ganesh Chaturthi— a festival with immersion. A symbol of creation and rebirth.  All around the world hymns are sung, prayers are said, and holy people are present.  Ganapati Bapa moria! 

in the car

(video from a different trip)

"Is this Andheri?"
"No, sir, this  is called Jogeshweri, sir. We are on the Western Express Highway."
"Aha"
"Sir" picks up the map laying on the floor of the car between him and the driver and looks at it until he sees where Jogeshweri is located and comprehends where they are.  He puts the map back down and resumes watching the surroundings as they travel along.

Today there seems to be mostly a comfortable silence within the car, briefly interrupted by short exchanges between the two of them, or even less often a comment from "madam" in the back seat. Sir usually sits in the front, next to the driver. It began because he wanted to get a sense of the topography and where in this mega-city they are. The map on the floor is part of that. He has begun to learn some of the main roads that they traverse fairly often, but they've only been on this part of the Western Express Highway once before when they went to the national park, so he's looking at the map again. Madam has mentioned that she likes it when he sits in the front, and he thinks Rakesh, the driver, does as well, though they have never really talked about it. Many days they chat amiably about the weather, the traffic, or the passing sights. Rakesh often identifies interesting points as they go, and sir or madam ask questions about what they see, but today all three seem content to ride quietly.

Of course, it is not really quiet in the car.  The horns of the trucks, motorcycles, auto-rickshaws and other cars around them mix with the growl of the diesel engine as it slows and speeds up to avoid collisions with other vehicles, pedestrians, occasional animals, potholes, and the annoying speed arrester bumps that seem to have no logic to their location.

Sir hasn't quite figured out the logic of the red lights either.  Sometimes the driver and the other vehicles around stop when they see a red light, but often they sail on through. He thinks it may have something to do with whether there is much traffic on the cross street or not, but sometimes that doesn't seem to matter much either.  Rakesh is adept at weaving his way through the streets, passing slower creatures, especially the auto-rickshaws, on either side then easing in front of them when the roads is narrowed again by a pothole, garbage pile, or illegal shack protruding into the roadway. Madam is amazed at they way he slips the fairly large SUV into narrow spaces with just inches to spare on all sides.

They continue on, each lost in their own thoughts.

After they turn off the main road, Rakesh stops by the side of the road for a short consultation with a rickshaw walla to ensure that they are in the right area, and they find the house of their friend. Madam and sir descend from their chariot.

"Thank you, Rakesh. We'll call you in a couple of hours"

"Yes, sir. Of course sir"


We are very lucky to have Rakesh as our driver. I wrote this to try and capture what it is like to travel around town with him. He calls us "sir" and "madam".