Coming home in Mumbai

Way back at the beginning of the blog I mentioned that as a raw but (so I thought) invincible 18 year old, I spent nine months living in Bombay (now called Mumbai, except by most people who still call it Bombay). Since then I have been back twice on teaching trips, but never revisited the apartment I lived in with an Indian family (no longer with us). It was surprisingly emotional to see it again, albeit from the outside (its the one below the flat with pink flowers), and a time for reflection on the many years and events in between. The last time I stood here I hadn’t started medical school, now I’m retired. Good to see it with Sue.

We had a quick visit to the local park (Maiden) which was jam packed with people playing cricket, there were literally hundreds of games going on.

And then lunch at Leopolds cafe, a Bombay institution since 1871 and a main setting in the novel Shantaram. Tragically, it was one of the sites of the 2008 terrorist attacks in Mumbai: 10 people died that day in the restaurant and bullet holes are still visible.

Nevertheless a defiant and vibrant atmosphere:

The following day we met up with our marginally anglophobic guide and were shown the main sights of Bombay

The Train Station

The University

The laundry village

Then a walk at night through a hectic bazaar 

Our last day was a boat ride through bustling Mumbai harbour to another rock temple notable for a beautiful sculpture of Shiva:

And perhaps the first depiction of gender dysphoria: as with all photos click it to big it 

 

View of our hotel and The Gateway to India from the boat:

We loved the hustle and bustle of Mumbai and will be sorry to leave.