Two Pilgrims And a Dog.

My first pilgrimage was on a Monday night. The big temple of Shri Ganesh at Dadar is where thousands of people gather to pray, offer flowers and ask for favors in return. You're meant to walk there, barefoot, from wherever you are and then wait in line for the 3am opening. Once the doors open everybody races through the grounds for an extra quick praying and offering session.

And this is exactly what we did. Walked for nearly three hours from just before midnight and waited patiently for the signal. Got offered rose water like marathon runners from roadside stalls, bumped into a double wedding by a slum, made good friends with a brave, cute dog that followed us, walked under flyways and through clouds of burning rubbish, passed a beautifully lit mosque and praying youngsters and merged with the streams of pilgrims from every direction. The temple unfortunately I didn't see but that's another story. Nevertheless, after 5 hours, black footed and knackered we dropped dead for a long dreamless sleep. A beautiful night is was.

Low Tide.

The tomb of the Muslim saint Haji Ali lies on a small rocky island connected to the land with a narrow concrete strip. Pilgrims flock to pray from all over the city and especially on Fridays the place gets swamped. The rocks surrounding the mosque is a popular spot for a bite and during low tide the faithful brave the slipperiness for a photo in front of the holy island and the skyscrapers in the background. Fishing boats lying lopsided, stalls selling mementos with the auspicious number 786, toys or fake jewelery, the beggars filling the gaps, walking to the mosque is a psychedelic ride.
The mosque itself is quite humble but extremely busy. There's singing praising the saint on the courtyard and praying throughout the day, a good place to meet people and a place to eat. Despite the noisiness I found it a welcome escape and stimulating meditation spot.

The Most Important Day of Your Life!

Indian weddings are famous for their intricate proceedings and deep symbolism, their length extending for days and of course the hundreds of guests and their extravagance. I've had some experience of such events in London but none was as opulent as implied by the cliche. Talking with friends the other night I heard about staggering numbers and expenses but was still skeptical.

And then I took a walk around Marine Drive's wedding reception dens. Usually cricket grounds, college or associations' common grounds they moonwalk as luxurious and gold-dressed stages of epics. More than a few lined up against the sunset lit bay, with hundreds of people in all attires and headgear tending the endless flowers, innumerable chairs, tables and sofas, dozens of types of food in individual stalls, hi-tech camera cranes and sophisticated lighting gear, elaborate shrines to the Gods and Ganesh in particular. My head was spinning! Each one was a Bollywood super-production in itself and there were many. One thousand guests each and as much gold as one can eat!

Backstage, the already tired waiters and MCs were watching a cricket game on the nearby ground. In playful mood in front of the camera they offered an oasis of real world and a slice of humour to the pilgrim. I'm grateful.

Short Stories.

Short Stories, the little essay on street life that was born out of my wanderings in South America during 2010 and appears on my website, has found a new window to escape in the wild. A version of it was published last week and it can be found online at F8 Magazine.