After 4 months away, arriving in Mumbai between Monsoon showers, was like stepping into a warm, damp, wooly, sock. Everywhere there is interaction between people and indifference and isolation have no place. Five people will collaborate to get the job done, in a collective responsibility. The individualism under which one operates in the West, has no place in India's group thinking.
Moonsoon showers have left large puddles of stagnant water along the roads and the lack of pavements makes walking difficult. Two dogs, alert and aggressive, threaten a monkey perched on a gate post - it bares its teeth and I wonder how it will escape from its predicament. The noise of the street takes getting used to again and it's necessary to recalibrate time, as arrangements are shifted and appointments become random acts of fate. People smile, laugh and stare and every move is discussed and debated - the scrutiny and curiosity never cease.
The apartment which was smart 2 years ago, is showing signs of wear and tear. Water has seeped through the kitchen ceiling in places, the paint is bubbling and peeling and mould creates abstract patterns on the walls. The bungalow next door has been painted bright pink, all three floors - it looks like a large gaudy blancmange. They are fitting a new pipe in the upstairs flat and the sound of banging and drilling mesh with the humidity - a background to the exhaustion and alienation of a long flight and the feeling of dislocation, being separated from one culture and not yet part of another.
Moonsoon showers have left large puddles of stagnant water along the roads and the lack of pavements makes walking difficult. Two dogs, alert and aggressive, threaten a monkey perched on a gate post - it bares its teeth and I wonder how it will escape from its predicament. The noise of the street takes getting used to again and it's necessary to recalibrate time, as arrangements are shifted and appointments become random acts of fate. People smile, laugh and stare and every move is discussed and debated - the scrutiny and curiosity never cease.
The apartment which was smart 2 years ago, is showing signs of wear and tear. Water has seeped through the kitchen ceiling in places, the paint is bubbling and peeling and mould creates abstract patterns on the walls. The bungalow next door has been painted bright pink, all three floors - it looks like a large gaudy blancmange. They are fitting a new pipe in the upstairs flat and the sound of banging and drilling mesh with the humidity - a background to the exhaustion and alienation of a long flight and the feeling of dislocation, being separated from one culture and not yet part of another.
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