Another early rise (5·30) gave me time to plan my activities for the next few days and to decide what to post home. (I'd realised that I had quite a lot of stuff I didn't need and didn't want to carry.)
I wanted to see the touristy areas of Mumbai so I walked to Colaba. There I met my first out-and-out scam - a 'holyman' gave me some sugar sweets, then tied a cord around my wrist, blessed me and then asked for a donation (which I refused). I could see it was a scam because his wallet was full of change, ready for folk with big denomination notes.
Another scam I met was buy milk powder for my baby. (I was told by a Mumbaikar I met later that this is a regular scam - the woman will have an arrangement with a nearby stall to 'buy' a carton of milk, then return it once the mark has gone and get back [most of] the cash.) I'd already refused several of these and each time felt as if I had killed a baby. I could see the children were thin and dirty and I couldn't see any reason why their lives were any less valuable than mine (apart from I can do some useful things and it can't yet), or why I have any more right to life than them.
Whatever the theorising, if anywhere could break my heart it's Mumbai. I sat for a moment near the natural history museum to drink and cool off. A pre-teen girl was playing with a toddler and the fun they were having caught my eye - I love seeing children having fun. One came over and tried to insist I give her my water bottle - there was a playful battle of grunts since she spoke no English and I spoke no Marathi.
Eventually, a woman who I thought was her mum came over to talk. It turned out she was the older sister (called Vayshali), aged 13 (I had thought about 18!). Their mother, Anita, also turned up. We (mostly Vayshali and I) talked about conditions here and in the UK. We talked about homelessness here and there - the only thing I could say is that not so many people sleep in the streets because it's too cold.
They also asked whether I was rich. My answer was 'I used to be when I had a job. When I go back to the UK in September and get a job, then I will be rich again. For now, I have no job so I am poor.' Vayshali was in 8th grade, studying English and Marathi. She said she wants to be a doctor. I thought she could, given the chance: she certainly seemed bright enough. There's no way I'd be as fluent in any foreign language as she was if I had to haggle for a living and lived on the street - I'd be too busy trying to get food to have time for school. Vayshali also was clean and well turned-out, as if to say 'I take care of how I look and am proud of it.'
So I decided to return to where I met her on Monday and ask her to show me her school because it would have a postal address. If it turned out to exist, then once I returned to the UK, got a job, sorted my own finances and had spare cash, I'd send the school some money to be spent on Vayshali's education.
My mother's uncle lived in Mumbai from around 1938, after getting out of Dachau, to some time in the 1960s. My mother tells me that during this time he became Indian chess champion. He was also a fairly religious jew. Part of my reason for coming to Mumbai was to see if I could find out any more about him.
So having seen a big synagogue marked on my tourist map and it being sabbath (which meant the place should be in use), in I went. I talked with a very friendly hazan who invited me to come back to the end-of-sabbath prayers because someone who'd worshipped in Mumbai all his life (and was now 75) would be there. If anyone could remember my uncle, it would be him. I burst into tears - I've been carrying this hope to get a bit closer to this side of my roots for years - and was reminded that it's forbidden to be unhappy on the sabbath! I choked out 'happy tears' and promised to come back later.
I did and met the elder. He can't remember my great-uncle but suggested I try the University, the David Sassoon library (it was endowed by a rich jew in the late 1900s) and also come back during the week to look at the synagogue records. There are also a couple of other synagogues in Mumbai so I hadn't yet given up all hope of getting closer to my great-uncle. (I'd already already explored the chess connection but had received no replies to my phonecalls and emails.)
© (except the blatantly ripped-off bits) Random Bozo 2006