The Hell of Mumbai E-Book

Thomas Rupp

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Seitenzahl: 83

Beschreibung

Dear readers! This book is most thrilling. If you start reading it you can`t stop any more. On our layover in Mumbai we were sitting in a cozy Indian restaurant and were enjoying the delicious Indian meal when suddenly shots were fired ...

Leseprobe

The Hell of Mumbai

PrefaceThe Hell of MumbaiEpilogueAppendix 1Appendix 2Copyright

Bombay is fascinating. Bombay glares in the heat and is covered by smog. Bombay stinks mostly, but sometimes it even smells nice. Bombay is poor and rich at the same time. But what is most: Bombay is alive.

Everywhere you can see colorful market stalls, busy vendors and the loud, chaotic and nevertheless flowing traffic. Under bridges there sometimes are whole families with their sparse belongings. You can watch them making a fire with paper, cardboard or other things handy, while their kids are playing hide and seek. By doing this the Indians cause this extraordinary strange smoke, which welcomes you through the air-conditioning when you approach Bombay by plane. The people living there don’t look unhappy, they arrange themselves with their circumstances. And that’s the other perspective of India: It`s the source of sentimental stories, which take place behind the scenes of chaos, noise and odor. We arrive at the barber’s. A grandpa is lying on the ground in front of the door and is taking a nap. We have just decided to go back when the old man says: “No, wait, my friend. My son’s inside. I’ll tell him.“ In fact we are welcomed by the younger man in a room with some old chairs and some unhygienic combs and scissors. We enter the sparsely equipped room, not before we have smartly circumnavigated the cow in the doorway, which is not allowed to be touched or even chased away. You must know the cow in India is treated like a holy and must not be eaten under any circumstances. That is very improbable anyway as presumingly 99% of all Indians are vegetarians. When my friend has his hair cut, he is not only greeted by the whole family members but is also invited to watch Western films - in our case American soap operas. This is a sign of hospitality and respect for foreign cultures. Afterwards he is given a twenty minutes` massage in addition. I am watching him from a wooden bench when suddenly it knocks from above. As I am looking in the direction of the noise, I recognize a door in the ceiling, which leads to a hidden room. I decide to leave the bench when the small door is opened from up there and someone puts a ladder on my bench up to the opening. Some men with a very dark tan climb downwards. They obviously have protected themselves from the heat and have taken a nap. They want to take part in the life below again.

Such anecdotes make up the charm of India. You cannot be angry with the Indians, neither for their laissez faire, nor for their being late, nor for their touchiness. They make up for this with their special likeability, open-mindedness and their good-natured friendliness.

Though the call was overdue for fifty minutes, my colleague was woken up by the hotel reception as following: “Excuse me Madam, this is your wakeup call. Sorry for being late. Your pickup is in ten minutes.“ Then the receptionist hung up without any further comment. My poor colleague panicked and hardly had the time to catch the bus taking the flight crew to the airport. When she arrived at the reception out of breath, she had to grin at the staff member nevertheless because his call was so honest and cool at the same time. Typically Indian after all. His sentences were supposedly accompanied by the usual head shaking and singing tone.

These heart-warming human scenes unfortunately are undermined by a historical fact that weighs much more heavily and dates back to Gandhi’s times. To cut a long story short: The very deeply rooted hatred between Muslims and Hindus led to the separation of India from Pakistan. The great divide of the two religions has not been overcome yet. It might be the reason for one of the worst terror attacks of the 21st century, which haunted the Indian metropolis in the late autumn of the year 2008.

Dedicated to all the innocent victims of November 26th of 2008 who had to die way too early. “The good and the pure must endure all suffering.” (Indian proverb)

The Hell of Mumbai

“A soup, hot and delicious, eaten in the heart of the family. Is it my Mum`s yummy cauliflower soup? No, the color is darker. Green, no, it`s red … The soup is splashing as if a stone has fallen into it. No, someone is smashing a spoon into the soup. There are even more people … My family`s running away and so is my girl-friend? What`s going on? A thunder is grumbling? And nevertheless we`re running out of the house?“

I wake up covered with sweat. I don’t know what it`s all about! In the last time I have had several of those dreams. It must have to do with this Bombay affair…

”Mumbai(/mʊmˈbaɪ/; also known asBombay,the official name until 1995) is thecapital cityof the Indian stateofMaharashtra. It is the most populous city in Indiawith an estimated city proper population of 12.4 million as of 2011. Along with the neighbouring regions of theMumbai Metropolitan Region, it is second most populous metropolitan area in India, with a population of 21.3 million as of 2016. Mumbai lies on theKonkanon the west coast of India and has a deepnatural harbour. In 2008, Mumbai was named analpha world city. It is also the wealthiest city in India, and has the highest number ofmillionairesandbillionairesamong all cities in India.” (Source: Wikipedia.org)

Mumbai, 26thof November 2008

It is a wonderful, warm, if not hot day in Mumbai. You could even say the sky is almost cloudless and a cosy breeze is blowing from the sea. We have decided to visit the idyllic Elephant Island, a UNESCO World Heritage. We, that means the five flight attendants Irmgard, Erna, Maria, Isabella and I, and, last but not least, Arne, whom Isabella has made the acquaintance with; he is a Shipping Manager as confirmed by himself. Stewardesses and stewards lodge in the most beautiful hotels during their layovers because they have to appear to their return flights as freshly as possible. They often have to work all night long with only rare opportunities for rest after all. Thus, their lodgings mostly offer great breakfast buffets, swimming pools and sometimes even smartly designed outdoor pools with palm trees and well-equipped fitness centers. Cabin attendants often meet each other on their flights for the first time. Or they have flown with each other before, but this was long time ago. This does not prevent them from telling their stories of their lives when they have the chance to do so, well knowing that they might not have a second occasion. And they want to show themselves outgoing and smart to win as many friends as possible. At least most of the cabin attendants and pursers are nice, they often have a high social competence and are very sociable. That is why they are chosen for this profession after all. The cockpit also is quite okay. The pilots, according to the flight distance, a commander with one or two copilots, always go for a beer and a burger after the flight, which is not unimportant at all. That is good for the crew`s harmony, which is elementary as it is team-building on board. We, the new fellows, are promenading along the boardwalk and have a lively conversation. We want to take the ferry from the Gateway of India, a huge doorway, which welcomes the new arrivals like a triumphal arch and awaits new ships at the seaside like a guardian. It is situated near the Taj Mahal Hotel, the symbol of Bombay, which is – with its outstanding tower - an amazing site for the visitors, who have just come ashore. Our destination is the Elephant Island, an idyllic island, with a cave that was a place of cult for religious ceremonies, praying rites and congregations. It is not quiet there because tourists often stay around as the island is very popular. That is why you can always find bazaars with souvenirs near the stairways that mount up to the cave. Those stalls are covered with canvas, which protect the salesmen and -women against the sun. And these roofs are an ideal playground for the small indigenous monkeys because they can improve their climbing arts there. The themes of the souvenirs often are connected with the Indian gods, which are so numerous that it is easy to lose the overview. I just can remember an elephant with at least four arms and Shiva, a man with long hair, who mostly is represented sitting in the yoga position. The elephant goddess always wears a sort of crown on her head with a corona around. We are taking a closer look at the objects of art when a couple, who are staying at the same stall, draws our attention. She is blonde and relatively young, about 40 years old. I cannot discover any grey hair yet. She is quite attractive even if her nose is extraordinary and rather long. That lengthens her small face somehow. The man is a bit older but still fit, though a small melon formed belly becomes apparent beneath his loose white T-shirt with a pattern of a golden Indian temple on it – certainly a good souvenir. I hear the woman say to her partner:

“Do you know what this god in the lotus posture`s called? It`s on the tip of my tongue.“

Normally I do not like to speak to Germans far abroad as I have to out myself as a tourist instantly and I have to fear to be obliged to exchange commonplaces. I prefer to mingle with indigenous people to remain anonymous. (Okay, anonymous next to dark skinned Indians is not always possible, I admit.) Most of my colleagues, who fly to very beautiful cities, which are tourist attractions at the same time, think about it like me. That is why the Germans did not catch our eyes at first sight. But when the man in his mid-fifties next to her does not come up with the answer either, I make an exception. As the two of them also seem to be very nice, I interfere:

“His name`s Shiva as far as I know. He`s a quite important god for the Indians!“

“Oh, thank you! I haven`t known that you`re Germans, too. It`s a small world!“

There they were again, the commonplaces which I spoke of earlier. However today I keep my cool. Is it because I`m in good mood as the weather is so fantastic or just because the lady is so nice? It doesn`t matter. I am eager to make a conversation with her:

“Where are you from? Your accent seems to be rather Bavarian.“

“You guessed right! We are. We can`t hide it easily, I suppose.“

“Never mind, we can`t either!“, interposes Isabella, who always approaches people very open-mindedly.

We all laugh at the same time.