Arrival

After spending three days in Bombay, a few things certainly hit you. There's of course, the poverty, but there's also the wealth, and the two sides don't seem to meet.

Yesterday, my relatives took me to a local mall and it was lavish beyond belief. There were outrageously priced, international designer shops, each one personally guarded by a man forced to dress in an outfit that can't look anything but ridiculous. There was also a good dose of international food which I was really grateful for, but I couldn't figure out the payment method, which consisted of obtaining a temporary debit card. So, I got 50 rupees on a card. I then excitedly went to the DOUGHNUT shop where they had MANGO donuts! The cashier first laughed at the way I pronounced mango (I was supposed to say maan-go), and then proceeded to tell me I only had 35 rupees on the card for a 40 rupees donut. I asked the debit card guy why this was the case and he also laughed at my inability to understand the system, so I just gave up on eating. It's not over, though. I will get that man-go doughnut.

Anyway, I digress. As I walked through the mall, I realized how globalized the world is truly getting. McDonald's, obviously, has made it's way to Bombay but so has KFC, Subway, and to my relief, cafes where the lattes don't quite live up to the expectation but will do for now.
Right as we walked out the mall, I remembered that I was in India. There were lines of rikhshaws lined outside and I wondered if the drivers could ever afford to go inside the mall and eat the overpriced food. As we took a rikhshaw back to my aunt's place, I happened to look on either side of the road and realized that one side was filled with large aparments and expensive shops, while the other was lined with slums absent of running water and constant electrcity. It's hard to imagine what it must be like for the poor, to come outside of their homes and daily see people who have a vehicle, a nice apartment, and no worries about food or shelter.

A few days ago, I saw three children, each about five years old, with no shoes, dirty and torn clothing, and covered in filth. It seemed to a scene from Slumdog Millionaire. They were looking up at a building undergoing construction and one was pointing up. They seemed amazed by it, but I wondered if they were dreaming to one day live in such a place. The day before, a 70-something old man had come up to the taxi I was in and begged for money. As a child, he likely had the same hopes as these children but his life, too, had been spent in astonishing poverty.

As in any other place, in India, the wealthy exploit the poor and the gap between the two groups keeps widening. The poor's slums are torn down and replaced with buildings, constructed by the poor. Almost everyone with an apartment has servants who come in and out to clean-up but can't afford to buy foods such as one mango. The wealthy don't even bother to go down and get groceries. Just call the store and a young man who may or may not be able to afford shoes comes up and gives them to you. And that's the extent of communication between the haves and the have-nots. One party servicing the next.

It's a disturbing reality, and one that is even worse in a city such as Bombay, where supposedly over 50% of people live in slums. A vision of a different, better life is right before their eyes, evident every single day as the toil away to get by. The life in a rural area doesn't seem that bad, though it may be. To me, however, there's a subtle beauty to the way of living where people still use cows as a means of transportation and construct beautiful straw tents for storage and at times, living. Many of the farms don't have electricity and you see all members of the family in the field, working on the land. Here, there are no haves and have-nots. Everyone seems equal.