Attack!

Today's blog, my first from within the bustling mayhem of Mumbai, will have to be a short one. Not for lack of things to impart, possibly due to company requirements, definately a biproduct of an overwhelmed central nervous system. This place is nuts.

Let me start by saying i had a great flight over. I was very lucky to be sitting next to a very friendly girl called Priya, who has been working as a doctor in the intensive care ward of the King's Cross hospital, Sydney, for about 14 years. Every second year she flies to Mumbai to visit her parents. Her help negotiating the airport made my entry strategy flow a bit easier. Then you get in a cab, and the shitting factor revs right back to full power. It probably helps if you bite down on something.

Okay, gotta keep it quick - - Marty and i are well. I was still feeling pretty average until this morning. We went to a party in Mumbai's Bollywood star district to see the New year in with some friends from the Pushka days. Sylv and Jess had arranged tickets for the event (coming in at $125AU!!) but they didn't charge us at the door... so it was kinda free... so now i'm walking around with a shit tonne of money strapped to my guts and a rye expression of amused paranoia in my eye. The clubs here are like nothing in Melbourne - nobody seems to hold anything back. Every single bastard in the joint is dancing like an idiot, occasionally taking time out to go to the bar. And nobody here ever needs to go to the toilet. There were three cans in the whole of this club, paked with upper middle class Indians, and i never once had to wait to get on board. I think the young toilet attendant thought my regular visits indicated a licentious pass, as he tried to sneak me a kiss when i shook his hand "Happy New year". Sorry mate.

I find myself saying that a fair bit here - more often to beggars and touts than to the homosexual toilet guards - but not as often as i had feared. Though you do cop it a bit, most people seem pretty honest (except the cabbies, maybe). The little kids begging for money or food is hard to face, and we often find ourselves struggling to maintain our cheer after we finally shake off a persistant beggar. My felings of injustice are frought with conflict, however. I guess its gonna take a while to sort out my emotions on that one. The words are failing me. Infact, this whole written episode feels completely superficial. Suffice to say, i guess i'm only just beginning to let myself see this place - as naf as it may sound, that seems to require a letting go - which is not easy. I hope to find my voice as i find my place in this whirling, hypnotic ferriswheel of images.
I am aching to gesture within the clutche of some pretty severe culture shock.
That said, we have come along way in our short time here. Yesterday we took a train out to Bandra, and we were the only two whities on the thing. Every dude was staring at us, it was bloody intimidating. But, we got out at the right stop (if you need help, everyone wants to help, and know your name, and where you from? and you like India...) jumped in rickshaw and went to the gig. I was amped just at successfully getting across town. Which is by far the highlight so far - its not what you see, but what it takes to get there. And the food is awesome.

Alright, enough for now. I hope you're all well. Happy New Year. I love you. Ben