Today was not only the biggest reality shock of my life, but also the biggest awaking of my taste buds. The day started with a trip into Southern Mumbai/Bombay to register for my documentation to re-enter the US. To get to the registration point, we had to drive threw a slum – and this wasn’t just any normal slum, this was the slum that “Slumdog Millionaire” was based off of. And let me tell you, the movie was spot on. I was shocked to see the conditions of the people, the roads, the food, the dirty water they were drinking, the children begging for money or food without arms, legs, eyes, deformities. Since arriving in India, I have noticed that there is a high amount of people missing limbs and deformities. I assumed that because they’re so many people in India, that this was just more common. I was wrong. Once seeing this slum I realized that the people I have seen are adults from the slums, the ones that get out alive. We spent a good thirty minutes driving through this slum, and I have never felt so on edge or upset in my life. I knew when coming to India there would be poverty and filth, but this is something different. In my mind, what was on screen in “SLumdog Millionare” was a dramatization of the truth – I now know the only made up part of the story was that a slumdog was able to make a million rupees.
When we finally arrived to the registration spot, I was relieved but still shocked. People everywhere, only some with clothing on. I walked inside with my representative from the Leela and because he knew someone, I was able to skip the line. Luckily the process went quickly or else I would have been very uncomfortable.
On the drive home, I was still thinking about the slums and how those people live. While it rains outside, I have been told not to walk around because the rain is “unhealthy” and could really affect me. Which means that walking through the rain and being around it is bad for you, how can these people DRINK it? All of a sudden, the car is stopped. I am confused until I realize that we have a flat tire. The HR rep from the Leela started to flip out on the driving, screaming Hindi like it was his fault. All the driver could do was sit there and take the verbal abuse. Once the driver went to get help, the rep started to explain to me how stupid is cast of people are – not the person, his cast. The rep explained that he is of a much lower cast and is still shocked that a company such as the Leela would hire him – he has no brains. I sat there and couldn’t find any words that would be an appropriate response – so naturally I said I was hungry.
The rep said that we luckily stopped in a “good” part of town and that the best bakery in all of Bombay was just one block away. I was about to experience the Indian version of NYC Vernaros. I couldn’t wait. I walked in and could smell coconut, sugar, clove, ginger, and so much more. I was asked what I wanted and said a little bit of everything. I received 2 kg of cookies for 150 rupees – just over 3 dollars. I arrived back in the car and started to taste. I had a pastry with mango jelly on top (fresh mango jelly), something that could pass as a Girl Scout trefoil, elephant ears with lots of sugar, walnut cookies, clove cookies, coco powder cookies, and my favorite: the Indian twist on macaroons. I don’t know if it was the freshly grated coconut, the fresh coconut milk, or the fresh sugar cane juice used as a sweetener instead of white processed sugar but they are SO GOOD. I will never be able to have a macaroon the same.
Once I arrived back to the office, I was called by some other co-workers to follow them. They were all hysterical and told me to NOT laugh. I kept asking them where they were taking me, but all they said was DON’T LAUGH. I followed them into a room and saw a young girl around 20. She came to the Leela for a job as a housekeeper and this was her interview. I wanted to cry. Earlier that day, they explained to me how they were of a superior cast and, being American, so was I. I realized that this girl was not of their cast and they were making a fool of her. I smiled at her and asked her easy questions very, very slowly so she could understand. The interview went on for about 15 minutes. Once we left, I felt horrible – that poor girl. When my boss asked them what they thought, they all said she shouldn’t get the job. I quickly said I thought she’d be great, and luckily he took my advice and hired her. After Mr. Ajit left, the other employees looked at me like I was crazy, I told them I liked her and walked away. I feel like I’m living in a combination of 2010 and 1920’s here – race means everything. Any slang word you can think of is thrown around in regular conversation.
I was then called into the President’s office to discuss me moving to Kovalam. He was so blunt and not thinking of my feelings. He created these ‘solutions’ to my problems with Bombay and said that I couldn’t leave. I started to cry because all I want to do is feel independent and that can not be possible is this city.
When I got back to the training center, my friend Shloka saw how sad I was. She is from a very very very upper class and invited me home with her tomorrow night and Sunday night to be with her family. I was so happy that I agreed. I’m really excited for yummy food, a driver, and air conditioning!!
For dinner, I ate at the fancy Indian restaurant within the hotel: Jarala. I asked the hostess to suggest her favorites for dinner. My appetizer was “Paneer Tikka Sunheri” – cottage cheese marinated with spice yoghurt and saffron. My main course was a curry “Rogan-e-Nishat” – lamb chops and cubes braised with onions, tomatoes, yoghurt, and Kashmiri red chilies. The curry was served with naan and pouri. For my dessert I had saffron and pistachio flavored ice cream with rose flavored noodles – so delicious. It was traditional Indian ice cream – which tasted like rich ice cream with shaved ice incorporated. Dinner put me in a good mood, but today was so crazy – such a reality check at how lucky I am to be an American and have such a wonderful and loving family, friends, and culture around me.
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