The book is very exciting and a fairly quick read. I enjoyed it a lot. Even though my initial thought was that I would not be able to use it in my travels now that I have arrived in Bombay I am finding that this book was a gem to read. As we ride in the cabs and sit in traffic, as we walk through the streets, I can see Mehta’s descriptions coming to life.
I know I have not been able to update things in a while. The pace that we are moving at has been crazy. It is Friday (the end of my first week in Bombay) and our first official “free day.” Professor Jha has nothing planned. As a group we’ve decided to go see another bollywood movie that we have been seeing advertised everywhere and the commercials on TV haven’t been too bad either. The movie is called “Singh is King.”
As for the rest of the day I have all the time in the world to do whatever I want. Some of my peers have decided to hit up some more of the bazaars. Others are just aimlessly wondering the city. A few people are attending a lecture that my professor was asked to give at the Times of India… and what am I doing? Sitting in my hotel room and reflecting on this crazy week. As I sit here with my TV playing the constant stream of bollywood clips and commercials in Hindi, I can hear the constant horns in the not so distant streets outside of my window. The feeling is very surreal.
There is a passage in Maximum City where Mehta is explaining a car ad that caught his attention. It is under a sub chapter called “Adjust.” His explanation is the first thing I think of how I’m feeling. And it reminds me of the exciting cab rides that we’ve had to venture many times a day. It may be a little long and I will try to paraphrase and explain the context as much as I can.
“Bombay is a fast-paced, even hectic city, but it is not, in the end, a competitive city. Anyone who has a “reservation on and Indian train is familiar with this word: Adjust. You might be sitting there on your seat, the prescribed three people along it, and a fourth and a fifth person will loom over you and say, ‘psst…adjust.’ You move over. You adjust.
A recent magazine advertisement for an Ambassador car, the sturdy workhorse of the Indian roads, illustrates what I mean. The car, and unadorned version of a 1950’s Morris Oxford, is trundling along a rain drenched street. The ad copy doesn’t devote the usual lascivisious attention to leather seat covers, digital dashboards, electronic fuel injection, or the trim lines of the car’s design. The Ambassador is actively ugly but lovable in the way elephants are, with a jaunty visor and a wide grin. Instead, there is a snatch of dialougue from within the car. Three people can be seen squashed together in the front bench seat. A man crosses in ront of the ungainly pachyderm, holding a briefcase over his head to ward off the down pour.
‘arre…isn’t that joshi?’
‘yes. Let’s take him also.’
‘but we are so many.’
‘have a hear, we can always adjust.’
…It’s saying that the kind of people likely to drive an Ambassador will always make more room. It is really advocating a reduction of personal physical space and an expansion of the collective space. In a crowded city the citizens of Bombay have no option but to adjust.”
Traveling with a group of 22 (counting our professor and our travel advisor, Gina) I’ve found that we have all had to adjust. And at the end of this week that is the best word for the experience this week: Adjustment.
After recovering from jet lag, busy streets, being stared at, sights of death and poverty, extreme humidity. I can confidently say that I am (somewhat) adjusted.
*I've uploaded more pictures to my flickR as well.
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