Mumbai was hot, smelled different than any place I'd ever been, and it wasn't so easy to get around. Lack of sidewalks, paved roads and manageable public transport leaves you at the mercy of private drivers or auto rickshaws. It's hard to be an independent traveler. But, if you've got family in India, it's hard to be independent at all. And quite frankly, not all that appealing anyway.
You just have to embrace being embraced, and that's that.
After landing in Cochin and driving 6 hours up to the mountains of Kerela, we settled in here:
Warm puffy Kerela bread dipped in southern indian curry was a fantastic substitute for turkey and mashed potatoes. Seeing as how this was a once in a lifetime trip, I almost completely forgot about the upcoming holiday that was the fabric of my upbringing. I was a thread in another fabric this time.
When we settled in to sleep that Tuesday night, the only tv we could get was mostly static and what we could hear was Malayalam...which we couldn't understand. The peace and quiet was a nice break from Jersey City...or Mumbai for that matter.
The next morning my sister-in-law's phone was ringing off the hook. The constant ringing of cell phones and door bells is part of the symphony of everyday life in Mumbai. We ignored it and slept. When we finally picked up we heard the vague but shocking news of bomb blasts in the city. Given the internal tensions my husband grew up with in Mumbai, I assumed that's what it was. An isolated bus or car bomb. Never in a million years could I imagine what was really going on.
After the concierge was kind enough to let me use the resort office to email my family, friends and coworkers, I managed to get a hold of the phone numbers I needed to contact my family and let them hear my voice. And describe to them the beautiful scenery and where I stayed nestled for the next few days. Paradise. They shouldn't worry and they should stop watching the news. My mother-in-law, who struggles to speak English clearly, managed to tell me "Don't be afraid."
We spent the next three days touring the tea plantations in Kerela and cruising on a houseboat in the backwaters. We enjoyed our vacation quietly, not forgetting for one minute what was happening, but soaking in every moment at the same time. And when we boarded our flight from Cochin to Mumbai on November 29th, we watched a local news station report that the crisis was over.
Fortunate, lucky, blessed. Thankful!
So, we left Mumbai three days early. We headed for the airport with the entire family. That's just how it's done in India. A caravan of 3 tiny cars followed us right to the terminal to give us hugs and kisses, laugh and cry with us, wish us well and shower us with blessings.
We were embraced.
I feel profoundly sad for what happened. I never really saw media coverage of these events. A few news clips here and there, some articles in the Indian newspapers. All it took to get the gravity of what happened, was to get to know the people of India. It took a trip around the world to really get the whole concept of giving thanks and embracing one's roots, one's family. We do it every year here in the states.
In India, they do it every day.
