Mumbai!

My last week in Ahmadabad is a blur of activity as I begin to make firm plans to live in Mumbai. Tulsi has begun an internship with Times of India so will be staying in Ahmadabad at least until mid January. I’ll be on my own which is both exciting and frightening at once. I don’t have too much time to worry because there are preparations to make and still more weddings to attend. Friday night Tulsi and I board a bus for Mumbai.

Before I know it we are whirling around the city looking for a place to stay. Since I’m not sure if Tulsi will join me in a month or so, I want something I can get out of mid-jan and doesn’t require me outfitting a full apartment. Paying guest (PG) arrangements are common here and the way to find them is through a broker. So we meet 3 different guys of varying levels of sketchiness, taking dizzying rickshaw rides around Bandra, the area near my office, to visit elderly aunties with rooms to let. On Sunday, I decide on a place walking distance from the office where I will work. My new home is a room shared with 2 other girls in the (fairly luxurious by Indian standards) flat of a woman, her son and her niece. By that night I am all moved in to my new home and saying goodbye to Tulsi before she takes the train back to Ahmadabad.

I go into the office on Monday unsure of what to expect. I find a casual atmosphere and friendly, goofy team of 3 Americans and 2 Indians working on an exciting approach to changing the world: shape young people who care about their communities and are willing to take action to make change. It took me about a week to be assigned any real work but it feels good to be busy again and its nice to have a routine. I get to the office around 9:30am walking 15 minutes past tall apartment buildings, a hospital, catholic schools, and shops stuffed with food and cigarettes, bags of snacks and Rs20 sachets of anti-hairfall shampoo and neem facewash hanging under red Vodafone signs.

The Youth Venture team, of which I am now a part, shares the office with Ashoka’s regional staff of 3 cheery Indian ladies. Upstairs is “the hub” an office space run by Unltd, another social entrepreneurship organization. Its always full of interesting national and international personalities and holds learning lunches and screenings of TED talks. The YV teams hangs out with hub regulars, going to dinner almost every night. I join them a few times but also meet with Tulsi’s cousin Shivang and Naina, a friend of his I met when we were first in Mumbai. Some days I just go home after leaving the office around 7 or 8pm and make some Maggie (ramen noodles) and chat with my roomies before sleeping.

On Saturday Chitra, a school friend of Tulsi’s who I met at a wedding and who lives in Mumbai, takes me with her to visit her auntie in Churchgate. I am submerged back into Guajarati as we snack and chat. Later we go to Colaba where there are street stalls to browse full of sandals, bags, western clothes, kurtis, scarves, and colorful jewelry. On the train home and sitting in a rickshaw in traffic, I am impatient to arrive at the party for YV Venturers (the youth we help to run projects in their communities). When I finally arrive I join them for games and several speeches about how amazing their accomplishments are. They are pretty inspiring: a 16 year old putting 80 slum dwelers back in school, a 20 year old who teaches life skills to girls living in institutions.

Sunday I meet up with Shivang and a big group on his friends who are lively and super inclusive. We eat at a nice little restaurant in Bandra where the Italian food that tastes surprisingly un-indian. After 3 hours of animated conversation they drop me home where I finish out a lazy evening by going for south Indian food with my roommate and walking home. There are a few details left to iron out here in Mumbai but I am well on my way to striking in roots.

Silk burn and bangle bruises

There are red marks above my hips and my right hand is a bit tender from being squeezed into borrowed bangles that are too small but I am proud of these signs I have worn my first saree last night for Shruti's wedding. Shruti, who has been a friend of Tulsi's since they were in primary school, has involved us in nearly all of her marriage ceremonies. Hers is an arranged marriage with a guy from Ahmadabad who lives and works in London. They spend hours on end talking over the internet or phone until he arrives a few days before the wedding ceremonies start.


We go to Shruti's house where she shows us the piles of new clothes she has bought which will be displayed at one ceremony showing how her family has equipped her before giving her away to the grooms family. We accompany her to the salon and to the ceremonies at her in-laws. We return to her house for mandy where henna is painted on our hands so we must eat gingerly help each other answer phones to avoid smearing the flowers and curly-cues. In the morning on the day of the wedding, we have missed a ceremony where a yellow paste of turmeric is smeared with blessings on Shruti's face. Mid-morning we go to the party plot where the wedding itself will be held to join cousins, aunties and uncles who look on while the pundit guides her parents through blessings for the gods represented by coconuts. Afterward Shruti is sent off to the salon while we return home to rest and change. Tulsi is excited to wear a brocade blouse she has had made to match several of her mom's sarees and while her auntie makes accordion folds to be tucked and pinned in the borrowed saree I will wear, Tulsi drapes two or three before deciding.


When we arrive back at the party plot the grooms family is dancing outside accompanied by a band. Shruti's mom and sister stand at the entrance ready to receive them, backed by aunties and uncles. The groom is blessed before entering, a friend guarding his face with a handkerchief against the playful tradition of Shruti's mother grabbing his nose. The bride and groom sit on fancy chairs on a covered stage to perform the marriage ceremonies. Shruti's parents sit on the floor with the pundit while her siblings and Tulsi are on hand to adjust her heavy veil or pass her a handkerchief. Photographers and videographers from each side shine bright lights on the entire proceeding. The bride and groom put garlands of flowers around each other's necks, are tied together with a cloth, walk in 4 circles around the ceremonial fire. More mischievous traditions involve the bride's side hiding the groom's shoes and selling them back, on the last circle the bride's brother holds the groom's toe until he is payed off. The many guests go to fill heaping plates before the married couple and their families sit to eat. Afterward they return to the bride's house to do one last pooja before returning to give gifts to each individual in the groom's family. At the end the bride says goodbye to her family, crying as she leaves them to join her in-laws and husband.


We are slightly less involved but equally dressed up for the festivities for a few other weddings before heading to Mumbai. The city is a striking combination of concrete high rises and slums. It is humid and warm with a yellow light and busy energy that feels familiar. We stay with Tulsi's family, first in an older neighborhood of narrow streets in south Mumbai. We walk to the beach crowded with families and couples and see the harbor ringed by streetlights. Later we are in newer areas, shopping on linking road, meeting with friends of Tulsi's in Bandra, sampling the posh restaurants on Carter road and walking along the seafront. We take the local train to Andheri, squished together in the ladies' car, to meet the owner of a production house that might have work for Tulsi. The bus we take back is mired in the constant traffic which reminds us of LA. I meet with the woman I have been in contact with about an internship with Ashoka's Youth Venture. (Check out their work here: http://www.youthventureindia.net) I have been up in the air about whether to stay or not but they have a lot of interesting work to be done and will allow me to ease into using Hindi. I think I've just decided to be here at least 6 months. Its scary but also exhilarating. There are a lot of details to arrange but first we return to Ahmadabad.