kindly court workers who invited me to join them for chai

I’m continually humbled by the kindness of strangers and never more so than when I’m traveling in, what from an American standpoint are, remote corners of the globe.  While Mumbai (or Bombay as the locals here still call it) is not exactly a small corner, it’s certainly very remote from my little hometown of Chattanooga, Tennessee.  I had been suffering some incredibly severe pangs of homesickness the past few days (more accurately, I’ve been terribly missing my darling Roger whose entire voice and presence is home to me).  As if in response to some cosmic cue, a multitude of kind people reached out to me yesterday and invited me to share in some small portion of their lives. I was and am sincerely touched and grateful.

In addition to being incredibly homesick (or heartsick), I had also been feeling overwhelmed by the magnitude of sights and experiences the giant country of India has to offer compared with the relatively small amount of time I had to open myself to her.  It was clear from the start that I couldn’t see it all and eliminating options is not one of my strong suits. Everything seemed of paramount importance as I was faced with every traveler’s choice of spending more time in a few places or little time in many.  Additionally, I had become used to having my own transportation during the 10 months that I traveled Southeast Asia by motorbike. This was not going to be possible for me in India given the particular places I wanted to be on particular festival dates and the vast distances between them.  Accordingly, I had been forced to make train and plane reservations which meant planning ahead – which completely cramps my travel style.  All that combined with a little jet lag had left me feeling less than on top of the traveling world.

Samarsingh Thakur with his amazing art work

Seeking to soothe my soul, I did what every heartsick, jet-lagged, overwhelmed artist/traveler would do … and headed to an art museum.  Bombay’s National Gallery of Modern Art was a help. I enjoyed the eclectic variety of paintings, sculptures and mixed media pieces exhibited there. As is always the case with art for me, I connected with and was inspired by some while others were meant for another viewer. I left feeling better but my heart was not completely full.

As I wondered along a bit farther, I came across the first street vending chai wallah I’d seen in Bombay. Several men were gathered around drinking chai out of small clear glasses and allowed me to photograph them. Then they surprised me by inviting me to join them and treating me to some chai.  They were staffers at the High Court and had stepped outside their offices for an afternoon chai break. They hospitably inquired about my trip and allowed me to practice my limited Hindi with them.  Their hospitality coupled with the the delicious warm, milky, sweet, spiced tea certainly did wonders to warm my heart.

Only about 100 feet or so beyond the chai wallah’s stand, I happened to look into the open door of a building and saw some amazing art work that I’m certain physically grabbed me and pulled me into the building. All I could think was, “Wow!”

The colors were vibrant, the graphics were strong and there was obvious rich symbolism in the semi-featureless women who stared without eyes back at me from the paintings. I was mesmorized. The paintings were filled with movement and great energy but simultaneously conveyed a quiet spirit. I wasn’t sure if I should whisper or shout for joy. The paintings seemed to invite both reactions. The bodies of the women in the pieces were primarily simplistic torsos covered in beautiful swirling wallpaper-like designs. The tops of each of the their heads was missing leaving me to wonder if information was escaping their heads or if they were open to receiving vast quantities of messages and information. In a number of the pieces, one woman would be featured front and center in bright colors while multiple others were gathered behind her in shadowy blacks and grays, perhaps her shadow self.  I was reminded of a number of Indian women I’d encountered who dressed in vivid colors that demanded my attention and yet were too shy to be able to speak to me and only giggled, hiding behind their hands.

Samar and me with more of his art

I was so enveloped by the art that, I’m embarrassed to say, I barely noticed a group of men sitting at a table that I walked past until one of them got up to greet me.  I couldn’t believe my luck when the man introduced himself to me as Samarsingh Thakur, the artist responsible for my momentary shortness of breath.

Samar generously spent quite a bit of time talking to me about his work. He explained his message – his observation that women sometimes use design to conceal their own personalities perhaps remaining strangers even to themselves, while style can simultaneously be an expression of personality and even emotion.

Apparently I was very fortunate in my timing because Samar’s exhibition was due to be dismantled in a matter of hours.  He introduced me to several other artists at the table, many of whom were to be part of the new exhibit being installed immediately after.  Among those I met were Rakesh Kumar Singh (who paints contemporary stylized and symbolically rich scenes from the Gita, the Bible of Hinduism) and Ram Bali Prajapati (who both paints and works in mixed media. His paintings for this particular exhibit focused on a maternal theme but are far from sweet and simple. The preview I saw was simultaneously evocative, challenging, rich and nurturing.) They invited me to join them for chai and we discussed art, travel and the “must sees” of India.  Samar gave me the contact information for an artist/professor friend of his who lives in Udaipur, one of cities I’ll be visiting in the next couple of weeks. They also invited me to the opening reception of Rakesh and Ram’s work the next day at 4pm and emphasized repeatedly that I was to be their guest. Needless to say I can’t wait!!!

I left the men and did a little more clothes shopping as my few changes of clothes were all being laundered and I hadn’t yet purchased enough to use during my trip. In the process, I found and splurged on a beautiful dress for the next day’s special art opening.

Finally, I headed for a late dinner at almost ten o’clock. The restaurant I wanted to try was completely packed. As I waited for a table to open up, a kind family of four sitting by the door saw me and invited me to join them.  Initially, I thought they were inviting me to sit with them just until my own table was free but then they offered me some of their food that had just been served.  I sat with them but was torn about the food, thinking I was just sitting their temporarily. I didn’t want to take part of their meal which they had clearly ordered only for 4, but also didn’t want to offend them by refusing their hospitality.  They insisted repeatedly and it became clear that I was being invited to join them for the entire meal, not just “sitting for a spell.”

post-dinner with Rachel, Dean and their two sweet children

I enjoyed several new and delicious dishes – “lollipop chicken” similar to the drumstick of chicken wings but crunchier and without the buffalo wing sauce. We also had a spicy, somewhat thick beef broth based egg-drop kind of soup that had lots of ginger and spice (here things are called “beef” but because of India’s reverence for the cow, they are often buffalo or camel).  They also ordered two different kinds of fried rice, one spicy and one not. The spicy one was called chicken fried rice but Rachel, the “mom” explained that it was what she called “triple rice” because it had rice, noodles and then a gravy sauce which contained the chicken. It was all delicious.

Over dinner we discussed the delights of Bombay but also its commuting distance problems, what it was like to travel and learn new languages, and how many Indian families had settled into the U.S. Dean, an employee at a call center, was interested in moving there but was having trouble figuring out the logistics of relocation and employment opportunities. He and Rachel wouldn’t permit me to pay a single rupee towards dinner so afterwards I invited them to my hotel where I gave them one of my art pieces which they seemed to enjoy.

All in all, it was a lovely day and my heart is feeling more full, my soul soothed.  What more can a girl ask?