HAJI ALI MOSQUE

Bombay is so exciting. There is such a great mix of history and spirituality and urban hustle-bustle.

Last night I went with my friend, Alok, to meet his partner, Vikram, at the Bombay Gymkhana. Gymkhanas were built by the British all over India, as exclusive men's clubs (British men, that is). After independence, the gymkhanas were taken over by Indians and remained as exclusive a ever. The Bombay Gymkhana has had a closed membership list for generations, so that only family members of members can become members. Vikram's father had been a member, so he is a member.

The Gymkhana is one of those colonial relics that simply exudes old world elegance (much like the Taj, where I am once again enjoying a cognac in the lounge). We sat outside on the terrace enjoying a beer, with slowly rotating ceiling fans keeping us comfortable. Vikram showed me around, introducing me to the president of the club, a delightful old gentleman. In addition to the club bar and formal restaurant and tennis courts and squash courts, the club also owns a large maidan, where rugby is played. So here in the middle of this crazy busy city is a beautiful park with green green grass belonging to a private club.

Today I did some galleries and museums and also did a bit of shopping. I went to the large Khadi Store. Khadi is homespun cotton. This is what Gandhi advocated: home industry. So the Khadi shops around the country sell locally produced crafts and clothing from various parts of India. The one in Bombay is like a grand old department store. Lovely.

Funny, on my first two days, when I went wandering around some fairly traditional areas, including some predominantly Muslim neighborhoods, I was wearing white kurta pajama (Indian costume). Absolutely no one bothered me. Yes, many comments about the mustache and my resemblance to Gandhiji, and the usual requests for photographs. But yesterday, since I was heading for the trendy suburb of Bandra, I wore western clothing (what they call pants-shirt) and immediately I was harassed upon leaving the hotel. Loads of touts tried to get me into their car for a tour of the city, or to come into their shop. A lesson in sartorial expectations.

It's quite funny to see the rich Indians at the Taj. The restaurant is full of locals for high tea and they are so rude!! Yesterday I was watching a table of three Indians (one man and two women with way too much plastic surgery). The women were so mean to the staff. "Bring us more tea! Bring us more pani puri! Bring us more sandwiches! Take this away! The table is too crowded!"

I've done some fun sketches here in Bombay. I rarely do two sketches of the same place, but I did two of the Haji Ali Mosque. There's just something special about this holy place stuck out in the sea. There is a thin causeway going out to the mosque, lined with beggars, which is always full of pilgrims heading out to pray at the mosque along with loads of Indian tourists. Perhaps it is the sight of a pure white marble structure in this oh so dirty city.

Bombay has been great. My next stop is Delhi, where I'll be for a full week. My Bombay friends hate Delhi and say that a week is way too long, but I'm very excited to see Delhi (old and new).

नमस्ते