I Have Seen Poverty, and It Is Called: Bombay

Just finished writing our blog for asian-soup with Jo. So, I’m not sure if I got a’lotta juice left (have I mentioned how I hate having two blogs?). But, if interested please check out asian-soup.blogspot.com for more detail. For now, let’s just see what I can do…

After Bombay, man, all want is to stress is that I’ve now seen poverty- lived in it, been around it, etc.. Fuck TJ. I mean, yeah TJ is bad (all those great/not so great adolescent drunken memories with Zev and Russ, too many to name), but it’s got nothing on Bombay (as the Indians call it (not Mumbai which is all Gov, same with Calcutta vs. Kolkata.). But yeah, it’s hard to say “No!” those first few times you’re hit by the militia of beggars, disfigured, inadequate mothers, etc. But, after a while you become kinda’ numb… hard to say. I mean, is that a good or bad thing? I had a bit of a talk with Jo and I recalled Star Trek (call me a nerd), but man I mentioned ‘the prime directive (Next Generation) and decided for myself that no matter what I do there is nothing I can do on a grander-scale (at this point) to help this situation. I am just an observer; an outsider, man. By being a tourist, in a sense, I am helping the government by contributing to their economy, but man I gotta’ look out for myself too in the end- and you know by following my blog(s) thus far that my financial situation is not the greatest, dude.. and yet it makes me feel no better when I have to wave-off the 20th nine-year old girl who cries in my face for money, because I know that she is pre-dispositioned to behave in this way by her parents. ‘Perception lies with those who perceive.’ Yeah? Sorry, reading Richard Dawkins right now. I have helped them in my own personal way, but nothing to brag about or go into.

“My friend” is the most common phrase you will hear in India and, all of a sudden everyone acts like your closest friend (like in Egypt, J’s, but way worse). All the kids that aren’t in (free) school are forced to beg on the streets (by their parents) for money for the sake of their family. So what can a motherfucker do? How can I help this situation? Answer: unanswerable. It’s not my country, not even my culture. It’s a moral question that you think you can handle, but come here and then tell me different. Until then, my mind has indeed been blown (which I never thought it would)…

So, yeah we wanted to take an official tour of the slums, something to show us the darker side- but with explanation and cultural-understanding. But, one night we got drunk late-night and took a walk ‘til we sobered-up and, inadvertently hit the slums along the seashore. What an eye-opener. I mean, seeing Indians taking their morning shit on the shoreline whilst ignoring us completely compared to those we’d met on the streets was a different-level of interaction altogether. We were the invaders, nothing more to say. I won’t spend too much on this other than to repeat- I have seen poverty. I am only thankful that I was born into middle-class, America, and after my travels that is saying a lot..

Bollywood- well, I was almost in a movie and, Mom, I was ‘this close’ to calling just to tell you. But, Jo told me to wait and I did only to find that we weren’t even used for official recording. I didn’t even see ‘The King of Bollywood’ (Sharut Khan) though others in our troupe apparently did. Rather, I was left at the end wanting to shout at the top of my lungs ‘KHANNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!’ (another nerdy Star Trek reference for those that don’t know, and those that do, again- you nerds, whom I love!)

The Frenchies are greatly mentioned in Asian-soup, but I have to mention them here as well. The same mothefuckers that gave me shit for being American were the most welcome sight imaginable. They helped us find our place and, man, they are great people- as you will see by our photos/videos. We had a great time. Hawk is slightly alcoholic, but he is ever the ‘life of the party.’ Unfortunately I had a bout of stomach-cancer which hit me again (roughly two days) here and there. Johan now says that I get sick in every city, and my only reply is that I wish it were him (for once) except Hampi (that, I would wish on no one). But I stress again: the Frenchies made Bombay for us, in every way that can’t quite be written.