A Walking Tour of Mumbai: From Slums to Theatre

Street Food

What a day!

When I woke up Chris had a plan. Inspired by a good night's sleep he had gathered the sights of Mumbai and ordered them in a perfect itinerary for us to follow.

In an attempt to turn the lights on I pressed the button with a bell on it. "I wonder what that does," I thought. Within seconds there was a knock at the door. Apparently we have a guy at our beck and call. I apologised and he handed over the day's newspaper. After only a quick flick through the paper I was slightly put off Mumbai. Apparently pollution this week had reached a level more than three times that which is safe for humans to breath. And, there had been a terrorist threat for Mumbai on Valentines Day. Great.

Taj Mahal Palace

Gateway of India

We began with breakfast which was served on the rooftop of Hotel Goodwin next door. Surrounded by British teens who were volunteering in Mumbai, we enjoyed eggs, toast and chocolate flake cereal. Fulfilled we headed out for the day. We walked down the street and along the promenade which follows Mumbai Harbour and takes in the Taj Mahal Palace, a very grand hotel on the water. When we arrived at the Gateway of India we were shocked by the security. Firstly because the area was fenced off so you were channelled through a security screening and secondly because when we walked through and beeped, the security really didn't seem too bothered. They obviously weren't too worried about the touts they had let through either. As we captured some photos of the Gateway we were hassled by Hare Krishnas trying to wish us luck, photographers who wanted to capture the moment for us and tour guides who wanted to take us around the city. No thanks. We headed inland past the homeless hang out and into Kala Ghoda (Black Horse) area. Grand Victorian buildings popped up from nowhere and art galleries ruled the streets. As nothing was yet open we continued into the Fort area and enjoyed seeing 'normal' India where people rushed to work grabbing breakfast and tea along the way. Yeah, it was after 10am already but hey, that's early by India standards.

Tour Guide, Flora Fountain

As we approached Horniman Circle my tummy took a turn for the worse. We took refuge in Starbucks, utilised their bathroom and enjoyed a sugar filled Caramel Frappacino to get my energy levels back to normal. After getting the bug, or whatever it was, out of my system I was ready to play tour guide. Lonely Planet in hand, we walked Mahatma Gandhi Road and I gave Chris an over the top guide of the sights while doing my best impression of a tour guide. All I was missing was a flag to draw my group to where I stood.

St Thomas' Cathedral, Flora Fountain, High Court, Rajabai Clock Tower, National Gallery of Modern Art and the David Sassoon Library and Reading Room. These grand buildings lined the streets and gave Mumbai a European vibe. Until you heard the honking Tuk Tuks of course.

Dabba Walas, Churchgate Station

By the time we reached Regal Circle Jehangir Gallery was opening its doors. While many of the rooms were off limits as staff set up new exhibitions we did check out a wildlife photography piece at the Terrace Gallery on the rooftop. It felt very civilised to be taking in the culture of Mumbai, above the hustle and bustle of the city streets below.

From there we walked through Oval Maidan where numerous games of cricket were taking place. It was like a minuscule version of New York's Central Park with tall buildings surrounding the cricket games. A man climbed a coconut tree as we walked towards Churchgate Railway Station ready to check out the Dabba Walas. These 5000 guys are responsible for delivering the lunches of about 200000 Mumbai office workers each day, with only one in every six million deliveries getting screwed up. Pretty impressive. We watched as lunches were sorted onto racks, carried on heads and pulled up the streets on carts.

Mahalaxmi Dhobi Ghat

Then it was off to Mahalaxmi. We took the train and met a helpful man along the way. He too was headed to Mahalaxmi and, as we got off the train, bought the day's paper to show us a festival that was happening and was even kind enough to give us the paper. Mahalaxmi is famous for its Dhobi Ghat which is basically a man powered washing machine which churns through thousands of kilograms of clothing every day.

Family Portrait?

We checked out the streets before beginning a big walk towards Haji Ali's Mosque. We walked around the huge Mahalaxmi Racecourse, checking out the local roadside foods (deep fried sandwiches are big here) as the locals checked out us. When we finally made it we realised how perfect our timing was, considering the Mosque gets cut off from the land at high tide. The tide was on its way in but still low enough for us to journey out. On our way, along the footpath with water lapping at either side, we were surrounded by beggars, pilgrims, market stalls, young guys swimming in the dirty water and families wanting photos with the white tourists. I was handed a very cute baby as I stood posing for family portraits, which seemed to just go on and on, before we could make it to the mosque itself. We took in the smoggy view of Mumbai while Muslims chanted around the tomb of Haji Ali. As we approached the land again the tide had risen and tried its very hardest to take our thongs with it.

Swims, path to Haji Ali Mosque

Incoming tide

We continued back to Mahalaxmi with the sun, by this stage, well and truly beating down. We grabbed lunch by the station, enjoying dahl butter fry, veg biriyani and chapati. Mmmmm.

Housing, Mahalaxmi

Nap time, Mahalaxmi

Next stop...Mahim. We were on a mission to check out the famous Dharavi, the largest slum in Asia. Only we could manage not to find the largest slum in Asia. We wandered the streets and, for the first time in India, did not feel completely safe. Even the kids were more boisterous than usual, following us and giving Chris a good jab to the ribs. Not long after seeing a dead cat we decided to go with our gut and get the hell out of there. We figured that if we really wanted to see the slums, we'd go on a tour tomorrow.

The usual roadside rubble

Juhu Beach

We jumped back on the train, enjoying the comforts of 1st class despite only having 2nd class tickets, and made it to Santacruz. As we made our way from the station towards Juhu Beach the noise, grotty streets and general mayhem began proving too much so we took refuge in an air conditioned restaurant and enjoyed some overpriced but refreshing juices. Again ready to take on the crazy, we set out. Not surprisingly, the beach was littered with rubbish and overcrowded with people. We dodged yet another syringe and got grabbed at by henna saleswomen. Chris grabbed an orange slushie (ice moulded by hand) and enjoyed a couple of licks before being harassed and grabbed at by a beggar girl to the point that he gave her the slushie just to get away.

Housing, Vile Parle West

Yesterday, Chris had read about an open mic night happening at Prithvi Cafe so we took a long walk to where we thought it was located. We passed construction work, rubble, rubbish sorting and the worst polluted waterways we've seen so far and patchwork homes before we stumbled upon a barber in the street.

Street shaving

It was time. After some confusion, standing around, being reassured by an onlooker and then finally sitting down, the barber began to trim Chris' big, beautiful beard. After more confusion, and the help of the onlooker, Chris' desire to lose the beard completely was translated. Away went the scissors. Out came the blade. While Chris endured the pulling and pinching of a cut throat shave, I played photographer capturing both Chris and local posers. The locals thought the whole situation was hilarious as they walked past, openly laughing out loud, pointing and staring. It was all in good fun and, after 20 minutes or so, we had a clean shaven Chris.

We continued our mission to find Prithvi Cafe only to realise the map on their website was not exactly accurate. We eventually opted for a Tuk Tuk. Our driver, who didn't speak English and therefore had to stop and get people to translate every time we needed to communicate, had no idea where the cafe was either. We were eventually dropped at the edge of some kind of weird, gated community and followed the signs to Prithvi. Turns out there was no open mic night. Instead, locals sat and discussed big issues over chai. We had found the cultured, civilised society members of Mumbai. After being convinced by a man to see the show at 9pm, we went and got dinner to kill some time. Hanging with the locals again, we enjoyed yet another cheap, delicious meal of curry, rice and bread.

The Dream of a Ridiculous Man, Prithvi Theatre

Early, we went back to Prithvi, got ourselves some hot drinks and tried our hardest to fit in with the educated folk. 9pm rolled around and we were impressed to see that Prithvi, unlike anywhere else in India, had a system! There was queuing! And bells to signal that it was time to enter. We walked into the theatre expecting a cinema. So, when we saw a stage, props and a set, we were surprised to say the least. It was an hour and forty minute long monologue...The Dream of a Ridiculous Man. And it was funny! And poignant. And confusing when you're exhausted.

We walked out of there at 11pm, well past our bed time, got in the first cab we saw and took in Mumbai by night along the journey home.

23km by taxi, 20km by train, 3km by Tuk Tuk and 20km on foot. We saw Mumbai. Warts and all.