India – A Love / Hate Story

To those of you who have been to India or are familiar with it through books and movies, it will probably come as no surprise that I developed a strong love/hate relationship with the place during the week I was there. I had been nervous about my visit figuring I would get sick, injured, robbed, lost, or stranded at the Mumbai airport. None of those calamities happened and, given my low expectations, the visit turned out better than I had foreseen.

The Indian flag.

Map of India showing Mumbai (Bombay) on the west coast.

Given my negative attitude, you probably wonder why I went to India in the first place! Mainly, I felt it was one of those countries I HAD to visit were I to consider myself a world traveler. I mean, we’re talking here about the second most populous country in the world (only slightly smaller than China) with a notoriously unique culture. In 1989, I had worked for two months in Pakistan, a part of British India until the 1947 partition at independence. During that time I spent a memorable weekend in the city of Lahore, only about 15 miles from the Indian border. However, the border was sealed and there was no way to get directly to India from Pakistan. So having experienced a Moslem version of India in Pakistan, I really wanted a taste for India itself.

A Dysfunctional Nightmare...?
Certainly part of my “hate” relationship with India was the result of my spending more than half of the week in Mumbai (formerly Bombay), India’s commercial center and one of the world’s largest cities (metropolitan area of more than 20,000,000). According to www.newgeography.com, the Mumbai metropolitan area has the second highest urban population density in the world (more than 80,000 people per square mile) which is 17 times more dense than the New York metro area and second only to Dhaka, the capital of Bangladesh.

An endless sea of tightly-packed Mumbai residential and commercial buildings

viewed from my plane window. The light blue rectangles are tarps to keep

monsoon rains from penetrating leaky roofs.

I chose Mumbai because I had two contacts there related to Indian erosion control work, and not because I wanted to experience extreme urban density first hand. But experience it I did, most notably out on the bumpy, chaotic maze of city streets where the traffic jams make those of Los Angeles resemble a pleasant drive in the countryside. I intentionally chose a moderately-priced hotel a short distance from the airport both for the evening of my arrival and the night before my departure. The hotel had a shuttle service and I emailed them with my flight information the day before my arrival. I was very pleased to see a man from the Hotel Suba Galaxy in the horde of taxi and shuttle drivers who was holding up a sign reading “Mr. William Mahoney” after I had cleared immigration and customs at the airport. I had assumed they would forget about me or I would never find the guy and would have to fend for myself.

Once in the shuttle van, I got my first taste of Mumbai traffic. My flight had arrived 50 minutes late and it was nearly 7:00PM when we headed for the hotel. You’d think rush hour would have been over by then but Mumbai’s “rush hour” only lightens up for a few hours in the middle of the night. The hotel was 4.1 km (2.5 miles) from the airport and Google Maps said it would take 7 minutes to get there (LOL!). Passenger cars, taxis, vans, buses, pick-ups, big trucks, motorcycles, and motorized rickshaws (“tuk-tuks”) were packed only a few inches apart from each other on the streets my driver skillfully navigated. On a few occasions the speedometer got up to maybe 10kph but mostly we were stopped or inched along. Pedestrians on the sidewalks easily passed us, and we arrived at the hotel (and I’m not shitting you) 58 minutes after we left the airport.

Traffic was barely moving during my ride from the Mumbai airport to my hotel.

My tiny room at the Hotel Suba Galaxy was only 77 square feet including the private bath.

The rate was about US$60/night. It seemed expensive for a relatively poor country but the room was clean and the rate included a delicious breakfast.

Practically every ride I had in Mumbai was nearly this slow with one exception. My flight from Mumbai to Istanbul was scheduled to depart at 5:55AM. I had been advised to get to the airport 3 hours in advance and there was no way in Nirvana I was going to miss the flight and get stuck any longer in Mumbai. Therefore, I set my two alarm clocks for 2:00AM, met the shuttle bus driver in the lobby at 2:45 and arrived at the airport less than 10 minutes later following the same route that had taken nearly an hour to cover when I arrived. And at that early hour, I was able to avoid most of the airport chaos and had more than enough time to easily make my flight.

The Western Express Highway is one of Mumbai’s main thoroughfares.

The posted speed limit is 60 kph (37 mph) but a driver would be

hard pressed most of the time to maintain half that speed.

From my standpoint, uncomfortable, slow, dangerous, and generally abysmal transportation was the worst aspect of India. Tuk-tuks were sometimes faster than cabs because they could more easily squeeze through traffic. However, I refused to ride in them except for short trips on minor streets figuring I would get squished like a bug if the tuk-tuk driver miss-guessed the movement of a big truck he was trying to sneak around. I was strongly advised not to take the city commuter trains as they were extremely crowded and full of thieves.

Motor travel in the city may have been terribly slow but out in the rural areas it was a white-knuckle experience with drivers tailgating big trucks, passing on blind curves, speeding on wet pavement, and no one having the slightest regard for the white lines dividing the lanes on expressways. I was amazed that I saw no traffic crashes although they certainly happen. According to Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_countries_by_traffic-related_death_rate), my oracle for all trivial knowledge, the USA has 15 traffic deaths per year per 100,000 vehicles, while India’s rate is 315 (21 times higher). Based on a limited amount of anecdotal evidence, intercity rail travel in India isn’t too bad if you book a first class seat in advance, but air travel within India is fraught with cancellations and mixed connections (kinda like the US, I suppose, only worse!).

Given all that city traffic, I found the air quality in Mumbai quite poor, and what I couldn’t see or smell was even worse according to an article in The Times of India published on 28 August while I was in Mumbai. The article reported figures from the Central Pollution Control Board showing that Mumbai’s air has become more toxic over the past year with levels for NO₂, ammonia, suspended particulate matter, nickel, and benzophyrene close to or exceeding agency standards. The culprit? A 5.6% growth in the number of vehicles in Mumbai in the past year. The solution? The Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (the civic body that governs the city) released a study calling for more flyovers (elevated expressways), better public transport, and road widening to cut down on congestion. And, I might add, while they are carrying out this needed construction, the uncontrolled population will continue to explode, overwhelming any new transportation infrastructure provided.



A three-wheeled Mumbai tuk-tuk. Most of these motorized rickshaws used to be powered

by hideously polluting two-stroke engines.New tuk-tuks are now required to run on

much cleaner compressed natural gas and many have a CNG label on their rear bumpers.

The city is filthy. Some buildings are discolored by mold and mildew, rats are common household guests, and garbage is piled up along side streets with litter here, there, and everywhere. I attribute the trash to both a lack of concern with filth in public spaces and a solid waste management system that is totally overwhelmed with the discards of more than 20 million waste generators. If people were really concerned about filth, it could be attacked by measures like requiring deposits on beverage containers. But life in India has more pressing problems, I suppose, like surviving from day-to-day for a substantial portion of the population. Maybe it’s not possible to control trash in such a huge city. And yet, I saw far less trash in China two weeks earlier, both in the huge city of Chengdu and in the countryside.



Mumbai trash.  I was encouraged when I occasionally saw someone trying

to clean it up.  A large feral dog population lives off discarded food waste.

Building facades quickly become moldy in

Mumbai's tropical climate when they aren't maintained.

I didn’t see too many cases of extreme poverty in Mumbai as I avoided the really poor areas of the city. According to a 2004 BBC News article (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/business/3487110.stm), 40% of Mumbai residents live in shantytowns of ramshackle, corrugated tin sheds. I saw beggars in the streets which I successfully avoided although one incident sticks out in my mind. I was in a taxi stuck in traffic, when an impoverished-appearing woman in a sari with a naked child in one arm approached cars and begged. She spotted me (“rich Western guy”), hurried over to us pointing to her mouth, and started banging on the closed window of the air conditioned cab with her free hand. I ignored her and the cab driver motioned for her to go away. Her response was to bang even harder on the window. Finally she gave up.

People in Mumbai do what they can to eke out a living.

When in poor countries, I have a personal policy of giving coins to blind beggars and people missing limbs. My policy doesn’t cover ambulatory women carrying naked children. Perhaps I was callous. Perhaps I thought I was being conned. Perhaps I was overwhelmed by a country so full of poor people seeing me as an ATM machine. Perhaps I was also a bit pissed off at Indian people who seem to govern their lives based on a sort of Hindu fatalism. You are born into poverty and that’s your fate in life so why try to do better? And more well-off Indians and the government seem to share that attitude. These people were born “low-caste” so they don’t deserve education or social programs to try to improve their situation, right? Both the British imperial masters of India and their enemy, Mahatma Gandhi, tried to destroy the caste system and failed. Perhaps it is gradually fading away like racism is gradually fading away in the USA. Neither is disappearing fast enough to satisfy me.

Are they poor?  Every dilapidated shack has a satellite dish or two.

Little things also annoyed me like pushy waiters who wouldn’t leave me alone. I can recall a hotel restaurant in Pune, a city east of Mumbai where I spent the night before meeting one of my erosion control contacts. As I tried to enjoy a relaxing buffet dinner, several waiters hovered over me like vultures and one would grab my plate the instant they thought I had finished a course. The head waiter was very pushy about which courses he felt I should try and very persistent in letting me know that he could help me out with anything I needed in Pune. Was he pimping for an escort service, looking for a large tip, or just being friendly? I don’t know but I left India with the impression that some of the people I came in contact with were trying too hard to please.

This dam west of Pune has developed significant leaks.  There are

occasional earthquakes in this part of India, and I wouldn’t want

to live downstream of this dam if a big one occurred.

...Or a Positive Alternative to Western Materialism?

If you’re still with me after several paragraphs of venting my frustrations, I must, in fairness, contrast them with the “love” part of the equation. Most importantly, some of the people I met were really wonderful: kind, generous, perceptive, engaging, very intelligent, and spiritual without being self-righteous evangelicals. You’ll meet a couple of them in upcoming stories on erosion control. In the meantime, I’d like to tell you a little about my yoga teacher.

I’m receiving a lesson in Marathi (the official language of India’s Maharashtra State) at the Christel House School in Lavasa. The principal, Nalini Garg, proudly looks on.  She has plenty to be proud of as these kids were bursting with cheerful enthusiasm for learning. Most are from poor families and had never seen a book before attending the Christel House School.

Yoga? Hey, I thought this was a trip about erosion control! That’s partly true but you may have noticed that I have a number of other interests (just wait until we get to Europe and I tell you more than you need to know about European trains). I started taking yoga classes a number of years ago in Denver as part of my recovery from injuries sustained in a truck wreak in West Africa. I’m by no means a yoga master but find it really helps me maintain some strength and flexibility. Besides, it’s also relaxing and helps me quiet my overly-busy mind. Thus, I thought it would be cool to have some yoga lessons while in India since so many of the great yoga teachers are or were Indian. I mentioned this to my erosion control contacts and one put me in touch with Aatma Padma in Mumbai, who teaches the Satyananada Yoga Tradition.

Even though Aatma and her family were moving to a different apartment during the three days I was available at the end of my stay in Mumbai, she made time for me to have private lessons with her for a few hours each day. I found a hotel near where she lived in order to cut down on the need for more of those awful cab rides. Like my American yoga teachers, I found Aatma to be very patient and non-judgmental. She had a nice “energy” about her and our time together did much to help me cope with the stresses of Mumbai. Aatma lived with her husband, Bala, a quiet, personable fellow who does computer work for non-profit organizations, her teenage daughter, and her father, Arun, who is a few years older than me, retired, energetic, and very pleasant company. They were educated, intelligent people who lived modestly and comfortably with a stove, refrigerator, TV, computer, cell phones, electric fans, and simple furnishings but no car, no air conditioning, no dish washer, and no clothes dryer. Of course, I’m no mind reader but I sensed contentment in the family and a lack of striving to acquire material possessions. I hope that Aatma’s family is more representative of the direction of modern Indian society than the glitzy, materialistic nouveau-riche of the Indian high tech industry or Bollywood.

My yoga teacher, Aatma, her father, Arun, and husband Bala.

Despite my earlier complaints about pushy waiters, I found my Indian meals ranged from good to fabulous. It was consistently the best food I had during my entire around-the-world trip. It was nicely spiced and the sauces were delicious. I never got sick although I avoided un-bottled water and most street vender food and was very careful about uncooked, unpeeled fruits and vegetables. It was one of the few times on my trip when I actually had a plethora of menu items to choose from. You see, I eat mostly vegetarian food (although I occasionally eat chicken or fish if there are no other choices). Not a problem in India as many people are vegetarian and few people eat beef or pork. A couple weeks later in Eastern European, I day-dreamed wistfully about Indian food as I bit into tasteless pizza sprinkled with canned vegetables and a bottle of catsup provided in lieu of tomato sauce.

Good and inexpensive food is in abundance in India

assuming one isn’t too poor to afford it.

In Summary
As I mentioned at the beginning of this story, I know my negative opinions of India were partially colored by spending too much time in Mumbai. India has very crowded, dysfunctional cities, but the entire county has by no means been ruined. I saw green, enticing agrarian and forested landscapes from the air while flying from Bangkok over central India. The Western Ghats (a range of low mountains in western India where I looked at erosion control measures incorporated by the Lavasa community) provided a taste of India’s potential as an intriguing, exotic, and pleasant country where one can experience emerald green tropical landscapes and a very different culture than what we Americans are accustomed to.

Scenes near the Lavasa community in the Western Ghats east of Mumbai.
There is more to India than its crowded, ugly cities.

In summary, I conclude that India just “IS”. It’s there, it’s huge, it’s damn near impossible to really understand from a Western perspective, and we’re sure as hell not going to change it. The British never understood it in their 150 years of foolish rule, tried to “improve” its people, and for the most part, failed miserably to the detriment of both the Indians and themselves. I, too, have judged India based on my Western values and biases.

I have friends who love India but share my misgivings, especially when it comes to travelling in the country. It’s just so difficult and unsafe to get around. You ask yourself, “is it worth the aggravation?”

Indian attempts to tackle poverty, provide better health care and family planning services, fight ignorance, improve transportation, and clean up the environment are laudable and set an example for the rest of the country. However, it's like trying to swat flies at a garbage dump. As my mother would have said, you kill one fly and ten come to the funeral. You solve one problem in India and there are ten others you can't solve without infinite resources, a change in Indian attitudes, and a reduction in the insanely huge population. Still, there are dedicated Indians and others who aren't giving up. In two installments in my Erosion Control blog (http://soilfundambassador.blogspot.com/2012/11/india-important-role-for-erosion-and.html and http://soilfundambassador.blogspot.com/2012/11/india-erosion-control-incorporated-into.html), I discuss two of these efforts: One is a commercial venture and the other a charitable project. In both articles, I emphasize the progress of these projects with erosion and sediment control.