Friday, August 10, 2018-Saturday, August 11, 2019
Bombay, India
Namaste!
Awaking to another Bombay morning to birdsong (read the raucous cawing of hungry crows), I realized it was only 5.45 am. Thankfully I had the Elizabeth George novel, A Great Deliverance to keep me occupied in my bed till 7.00 am when the rest of the household stirred. Morning ablutions, prayers and then breakfast followed—a brune (hard crusted loaf) with 2 eggs and coffee.
I spent a good part of the morning packing for the next leg of my travels—to China and South Korea. I was only taking a small pull-on carry-on, so I chose items carefully. When that was done, I helped my Dad draft a letter (as his eyesight is now weakening rapidly) and then typed it for him on my laptop to the Gas company in regards to his bill. Next, I walked to the photocopy chap, Jay, to get it printed out so my Dad could send it off by courier.
Another Bombay Aside: The regular Post and Telegraph service that the British had introduced in India in 1854–and that had played a huge part in helping them win victory in the Sepoy Mutiny when it broke out in 1858–is in shambles. The regularity with which we had taken for granted the delivery of mail to our homes, not once but twice a day, when I was growing up in Bombay, is now history. Dad informed me that no one relies on the Postal service anymore—as mail is never guaranteed to reach. Local courier services have sprung up and for local delivery of mail they are a far safer bet. Later in the evening, since he had to mail something that came to him postage-paid, he took me to a red pillar postbox. These iconic fixtures of the erstwhile British Raj are in a sad state of neglect. Although the banana man whose cart stood in front of the pillar box assured my Dad that the postman does pick up, the timing of 15.25pm has stood unchanged for years! Dad hoped for the best when he pushed his letter through. What does this say, I paused to wonder, about the post-colonial state of Indian civil and administrative affairs? And why is it that institutions that the British initiated with such pride and which the Anglo-Indians basically ran like clockwork before they emigrated en masse out of India, are in such dire shape today?
Lunch and a Nap:
Lunch followed at 12.45 pm after which I helped Dad with work relating to some shares that he has been holding for decades. It is his failed eyesight, brought on by macular degeneration, that makes it almost impossible for him to handle paperwork today—particularly when the print is so tiny and so faint that he is completely at sea. Here is where I hope to serve as his eyes through this year at least.
We all had a short nap before it was family rosary time and tea-time. Dad and Russel and I tucked into a big box of baklava brought for us from Abu Dhabi by my cousin Ashley who visited last week. That and some lemony tea saw me through to the evening when I made a few phone calls to close friends (Shahnaz, Nafisa, Firdaus) and then showered and accompanied Dad to church for 7.00 pm Mass.
Dinner: Lebanese delicacies.
The Lebanese restaurant called Za’atar has come to our aid for 2 nights in a row as we loved the Chicken Schwarma so much that we ordered Chicken Kebabs and Mushrooms Za’atar for dinner as there was nothing much by way of a meal at home—as all leftovers had been consumed. They were just divine—especially the mushrooms. This will quite likely become a regular take-out option for me in the months to come.
By 9.30, I said goodbye to Russel and my Dad, said a prayer for safety in front of the Family altar and then left my Bombay home for the next 3 weeks. My dad accompanied me to the gate at the top of our building’s driveway where I waited for about 10 minutes while trying to hail a rickshaw. Few drivers wanted to go as far away at the Sahar International Airport but soon I found one driver stopping for me. At 9.45, I was in the rick and heading in the thick of the most horrid traffic to the airport. Vehicles were neck to tail all the way until we reached there at 10.45 pm. My flight was at 1.10 pm—which left me adequate time to clear check-in formalities, only to discover that it was delayed for 40 minutes and would be leaving at 1.50 pm instead. Jet Airways service to Hong Kong was excellent and on schedule. I arrived in the beautiful airport in the New Territories as they are known, far away from the bustling city of Hong Kong which was draped in a fine monsoony mist at dawn. It was already Saturday, August 11, 2018 when we touched down and that was where disaster began...
But you will read all about the horrific misadventures I had from this point on in my blog post tomorrow.
Until then, namaste...
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