All of 33 years ago, I wrote a small essay inspired by a walk through a Mumbai (it was called Bombay then) side-street. The imagery that was brought out in this piece has continued to colour my writings right to the present day.
Bombay: A Jaundiced Perspective (1979)
Bombay. Undoubtedly, a beautiful metropolis. Again undoubtedly, a tarnished metropolis.
Bombay. Pockmarked all over with an awesome multitude of squalid lanes.......lanes that abound in repulsive sights, disgusting sounds and nauseating smells.
You pause at the head of one of these lanes. Dank, gloomy, but it looks safe enough, so you stride in , skirting a seated cow chewing the eternal cud. In the shadows, a long, undulating form glides noiselessly into a convenient hole. The all-pervading stench of putrescence hangs in the air.
You pause again, uncertainly. To proceed or not to proceed, that is obviously the question. Shrugging then, you take a tentative step forward. A dark cloud of mosquitoes rises, wraith-like, from a black pool of stagnant water ahead. You grimace, and tiptoe delicately over it. So far, not much sound to disturb the silence.
The mundane sounds begin a little further on. The discordant howling of a hungry infant sets your teeth on edge, and you wince on hearing the coarse bickering of two nearby women. The stink of garbage has vanished as if it had never been; instead, the sickly-sweet odour of animal excreta and dire poverty assail your sequestered nostrils.
You grimace again, and move on; A rabid mutt glares balefully at you in passing, and you give it a very wide berth indeed. All other sound is drowned out for a moment, by water from a Municipal tap splattering noisily into a steel pail.
An inconspicuous little shoplet tucked into the remains of a head-high wall, almost escapes your notice. The seedy proprietor, doubtless a dealer in doubtful commodities, eyes you with open curiosity as you sidle by. Raucous laughter from the depths of a doorway assaults your eardrums.......immediately after, a falsetto giggle pierces the air.
You are nearly at the end of the lane. With some relief, you increase your pace. A light, musty odour is the only smell that now prevails. Filthy urchins materialise from the gloom and fall in step behind you, following you for a few yards, dragging their feet indifferently on the pitted tar surface of the road.
A couple of long, purposeful strides. You are out of the street now, and exhale a long breath of relief. Bathed in glorious May sunshine, you pause for a moment to soak it in.
You have moved from black onto white.
Check.
Bombay: A Jaundiced Perspective (1979)
Bombay. Undoubtedly, a beautiful metropolis. Again undoubtedly, a tarnished metropolis.
Bombay. Pockmarked all over with an awesome multitude of squalid lanes.......lanes that abound in repulsive sights, disgusting sounds and nauseating smells.
You pause at the head of one of these lanes. Dank, gloomy, but it looks safe enough, so you stride in , skirting a seated cow chewing the eternal cud. In the shadows, a long, undulating form glides noiselessly into a convenient hole. The all-pervading stench of putrescence hangs in the air.
You pause again, uncertainly. To proceed or not to proceed, that is obviously the question. Shrugging then, you take a tentative step forward. A dark cloud of mosquitoes rises, wraith-like, from a black pool of stagnant water ahead. You grimace, and tiptoe delicately over it. So far, not much sound to disturb the silence.
The mundane sounds begin a little further on. The discordant howling of a hungry infant sets your teeth on edge, and you wince on hearing the coarse bickering of two nearby women. The stink of garbage has vanished as if it had never been; instead, the sickly-sweet odour of animal excreta and dire poverty assail your sequestered nostrils.
You grimace again, and move on; A rabid mutt glares balefully at you in passing, and you give it a very wide berth indeed. All other sound is drowned out for a moment, by water from a Municipal tap splattering noisily into a steel pail.
An inconspicuous little shoplet tucked into the remains of a head-high wall, almost escapes your notice. The seedy proprietor, doubtless a dealer in doubtful commodities, eyes you with open curiosity as you sidle by. Raucous laughter from the depths of a doorway assaults your eardrums.......immediately after, a falsetto giggle pierces the air.
You are nearly at the end of the lane. With some relief, you increase your pace. A light, musty odour is the only smell that now prevails. Filthy urchins materialise from the gloom and fall in step behind you, following you for a few yards, dragging their feet indifferently on the pitted tar surface of the road.
A couple of long, purposeful strides. You are out of the street now, and exhale a long breath of relief. Bathed in glorious May sunshine, you pause for a moment to soak it in.
You have moved from black onto white.
Check.
You do have a way with words, Sunando.
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Thankee kindly,SC....this was when I was 15, so hopefully that attribute hasn't atrophied with time !
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