Then the "President" of the protest group repeated the same in the Bullhorn. Now he asked my name and invited me to say something into the bullhorn. I declined. He insisted. I said “I just want to wish the Indian people luck and happiness.” Someone was taking pictures. I thanked the President and left.
In another part of the park grown ups were still protesting against China. The occasion this time was the Dalai Lama’s week-long tour of the border province of Arunachal Pradesh, a visit to which China had vociferously objected. (This province was the sensitive area that the Chinese had temporarily occupied in 1962.)
A television crew was filming the nearby Hotel as the background while a reporter spoke into the camera. Bollywood was not far behind.
In the cricket park where Chacha (Uncle) Nehru was memorialized as a “Passionate advocate of Education for India’s children and youth, believing it essential for India’s future progress.”
Not that it mattered: at the flower shop with the sign Abdulkarim va Olad /Abdulkarim & Son I asked the shopkeeper what the sign in two languages said. He did not know; he just said his name was Rashid.
Other types of trade took place right on the sidewalks of Mumbai streets. Make-shift restaurants were far busier than the MacDonald’s in their midst.
The Crawford market spilled into the surrounding streets. On these streets I also saw the sign for the new type of brokers, trading in Mumbai’s stock exchange which is India’s most important. In handwriting, the sign on the half-open iron door of the small storefront office said: “Kindly read the Risk Disclosure Documents carefully before investing in Equity."
The laundering technology has not changed in Mumbai for generations. I stood on the overpass across from the Mahalaxmi Racecourse to observe clothes being washed by hand in concrete sinks and then left to dry in the sun at the Dhobi Ghat.
Now it was just an old bazaar, like the ones you see in Middle East cities. What the Coolie seemed to consider as points of interest here -- the Kipling’s Fountain...
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