Mumbai, India June 2009

Part 5
by Emily Sernaker

MTV Cribs should do a special on Gandhi's house. I'm serious, instead of watching how Tommy Lee got a Starbucks built in his kitchen, we could be looking at Gandhi's spinning wheel and learning about how this delicate man would spin and spin for all of India. It would be great, we could look at Gandhi's jail bowl and read his correspondences with Tolstoy and Churchill; his plea to Hitler on behalf of humanity. The show could edit in some cool background music to take us through the dioramas set up on the second floor, showing all the important moments of Gandhi's life. Everyone will be surprised how powerful it is, to see a little paper mache figure doing the salt march. Fasting for peace, going to jail, giving voice to the voiceless, hope to the hopeless, all of a sudden there's a dot of red paint in the middle of his little white robe. The viewers of MTV Cribs will be crying as paper mache Gandhi chooses to see God in the eyes of his assassin. They'll hear the quote "my life is my message" and realize that before seeing that special, they had never known what bravery was.

After spending time in rural Badlapur, I've come back to the heart of Mumbai. Chillies tied to the front of taxis, jump onto a moving bus, drive on the wrong side of the road, everything feels like a high speed car chase unless you're stuck in traffic: Mumbai. Get your hair cut on a rock by the Indian Ocean, a shave on the street, a cold bath in a blue bucket: Mumbai. Please don't offer me drugs, or try to clean my ears; a pigeon flew into my face yesterday: Mumbai. Eat every drop of food on your plate and be thankful it was there. Watch someone write any word in Hindi and you'll swear they are an artist. Ask your waiter how many languages he speaks, I'll bet it's five. Don't make eye contact with men, they think it’s an invitation. Don't answer every question with "D) It is written," no one will think you are funny. I saw a story carved in an elephant tusk. I saw a suitcase full of money. I saw statues for a million gods, a million rain drops, a whole city under an umbrella with their arms around each other.

The programs I'm looking at are extraordinary. To watch an older woman who used to be in the district learning to read; to watch a younger woman who used to be in the district reclaiming her life through the vocational center; stitch by stitch it’s hers again. Everyone’s a before and after picture. Everyone has a story that changes everything. Whatever you expected to find here was wrong - if you think you're gonna be sad they'll shove hope down your throat until you acknowledge it and swallow. If you think you're gonna find answers they'll tell you a story so complicated you forget how to put one foot in front of the next. I can tell you I do feel their words sticking to me. I suspect that I'll always be both a little bit weaker and a little bit stronger for knowing.