very revealing trip out to bandra. it's funny that nothing is ever what you imagine. india's "beverly hills" looks just like all the rest of this city and completely surrounded by the biggest slums in all of mumbai. i have never seen anything like it. beggers trying to crawl inside our taxi each time we were stopped in traffic, i had to keep my belongings underneath my bum. 6 miles takes almost 2 hours, no a/c, and a full on sunburn because of it.
we agreed to keep our taxi with us rather than fend for ourselves-thank god cause we would have been torn apat by the very desperate poor. we were first dropped off at a tall and skinny "mall" and taken by the lift(elevator) to the top floor by the mall tour guide. each floor containing only one or 2 stores, than you walk down the spiral staircase into shopping doom. i passed on the top floor much to the dismay of my guide-jewelry. then came floor 6-my greatest weakness staring me in the eye-kasmiri rugs. we met the delightful kashmiri man complete with full on entourage. we walked in and the jaws closed firmly. now i must tell you that the kashmiri's got all my money last year in kerala. i swear they put something in the tea. here's how the rap goes, and it's always the same. "i don't want to sell you anything. i simply want to get to know you. sit on my velvet couch". he snaps his fingers and a girl with a platter of tea arrives. he first makes you appreciate it's aroma, we aren't allowed to taste just yet, explaining the ayurvedic qualities. he explains how hard the kasmiri's have it with all the comflict in the north. we learn his name, his story, his sexual preference (no, not really)he learns about us. suddenly another finger snap and the tea table is promptly removed. here come the rugs. another member of his entourage appears first with the wools. he holds the rolled rug horizontally, kisses it firmly, and with a flick of his wrists, snaps it open and onto the floor. "look at it, see the colors change as it moves. it is not trick lighting." he invites us to walk around, talks of their history and asks, "how long you think this took to make?" i guess a year, he says "5 years by one person!" then invites us to remove our shoes and feel them with our feet. then the best part, quite remenicent of an info-mercial. he brings out a pair of giant scissors, invites us to feel the sharpness of the blades, and proceeds to slice away at the rugs, proving their indestructibility. no temptation yet. UNTIL...
THE SILKS!! i suddenly feel my entire body go flush, i feel faint. bastard!! unbelievable, gorgeous. his spell has worked. i want one. i want one badly. i need one more than water, more than air. after 2 cups of tea, i make my choice. and because it's ramadan, he offers 25% discount. of course one is never enough for these madmen, and spends a very intense hour trying to double my order. i have no business buying one, let alone 2, but come to my senses cause i don't want to cut my trip short because of rug weakness. signed authenticity contracts, and sign the back of the rug to prove it's the one i chose. i leave elated and sick to my stomach.
next stop-multi-level sari shop. of course they ask where i'm from, and bring in a mountain of salwars, tossing each one over my head at rocket speed. the girl asks, "how many you buy?" i say, 2 or 3. she says "you buy 3-at least!" HA!!! i walk out with 5, plus 2 pairs of rajastani shoes and wonder how the hell did that happen?
film city will have to wait cause we're totally wiped out. shopping in india is indeed dangerous to your health. next the never ending crawl through the slums filled with limbless naked kids, women lying on rubble in the 120 degree sun multi-tasking cooking, breast feeding, and sewing together marigolds for puja. me with my extravagent purchases between my legs, rug on the way, as everyone around me malnourished. i am told film city is not open to the public, but 2000+ rupies can do the talking. i am willing to pay, but next time we take a train.
bindifry
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