Back in Mumbai

We spent the last few days in a small rural town east of Mumbai. We observed a rural general practice as well as a dermatologist. The dermatologist was extremely welcoming and taught us a great deal-stuff we wouldn’t see in the US. Our accommodations were more “rural” as well. Natalie said that she has always wanted a canopy bed but preferably not in the form of a mosquito net. She wouldn’t let me open the window for a bit of a breeze because of the Geico geckos crawling all over the outside walls. Not only did the mosquito nets keep out the mosquitoes, but they also prevented any movement of air. More than once I woke up feeling I couldn’t get enough air. Thank goodness for Ambien!!I will not forget the experiences of riding the Indian commuter trains. They are no Chicago L, New York subway, or Paris metro. Rather, they are gender segregated, doorless cargo, train-cars with faded paint and dimly lit florescent lighting. Dust and grime covered fans circulate the stale air and steel hand grips hang like hooks at a rendering plant. But I can’t escape their allure. I have found them to be a small microcosm of Indian culture. In India space and privacy are a luxury. Personal space is more like a Venn diagram with your bubble sharing a bit of space with another. An accidental bump or nudge is in no need of an apology instead they are often ignored. I have unintentionally planted the occasional elbow into the back of a passenger’s head to have it not even garner a sideways glance. Like a queue, passengers line up at the edge of the doorway facing the direction of travel. Of course, I could not sit for long before I too was hanging out the door. Every few hundred yards there is a new kaleidoscope of color and new smells in the air. As the train bends around a curve I enjoy watching the colorful wisps of women’s saris accent the train’s otherwise drab aesthetics. In India there is no other way to travel.
This is the link to the new online version of the Abaton.http://www.dmu.edu/communications/publications/abaton/2008/fall/