The life in Byculla - The peeing wall, Edward Scissorhands and prostitutes

I have lived in Byculla (part of Bombay) for maybe two months now... and I will stay here for the rest of my stay here. It's okay, I like it here. I'm able to partake of the real Bombay here, and not just the touristy parts of Colaba and the Fort Area. It does feel like home here now. Not in the way that I would like to stay here for the rest of my life. No way. But the feeling of having a place and room of my own, in a way, where I can relax and kick back, even if it's just temporary.

But what is it like here?

There is a rich diversity among the people that live here. Most of the people here are Hindus, ... of various castes and professions. You can tell by the music and partying or by the fireworks if there's a Hindu festival going on.
But there are also many various types of Muslims here. Many of the men look similar with their white caps and long white robes though, even though many wear western clothes too. The women are often wearing black clothing, and it's pretty common they cover everything but their eyes and hands. Then there are the Bori Muslim women that look like urban versions of the Amish, but with more colourful variations, ...the dresses come in pink, light blue, light green, yellow, and orange, and doesn't cover the faces or all the hair.

I really don't have the greatest social life here. The place where I stay at, Seva Niketan, is a men only hostel, so no women to get to know or keep company with ...and the only real place to hang out in this neighbourhood is a ... men only restaurant. So nothing there ether.
Well, I have gotten to know Vincent, a young French guy that will work in Bombay for a year, and who also lives at Seva Niketan. It has been refreshing to hang out with him and two Indian guys, when possible.

Other people that i have gotten to know is my new barber, Daslim. I abandoned my old one for this one. his barbershop is just up the street, plus he's a better barber. looking at him trim my hair is like watching Edward Scissorhands in action, and when shaving me it's like a painter working on his masterpiece, where his blade is his brush. He has even taken a cigarette brake and a tea pause "in between sessions." So far I haven't gotten the image of Sweeney Todd (ironically also played by Johnny Depp) ...well, those images do pop from time to time. But I try to push them away.

I guess I do some shorter small talk with "Zia" and Dalha and the other young fellas working at the local internet cafe.

One place I pass every time I walk to work, and even every time I go to the internet cafe down the street, or walk to the Bombay Central train station, is the "peeing wall". It's a wall next to a sidewalk that someone decided to be an unofficial place of relief for men that need to pee. It's hard not to notice, even if no one is peeing there at the moment. It stinks really bad, and even if the area around is dry, that part of the sidewalk remains wet, having its lakes of male urine.. running down the sidewalk in to rivers and creeks. I walk around that part of the sidewalk.

At day and nighttime, there is a man that sells boiled eggs just a few meters from the peeing wall. Why in the world he chose that spot is a mystery. Maybe it's because no cars park next to that wall, and thus giving him more open space? Maybe the stench keeps him awake? Maybe the local people tend to have craving for egg after a good moment of peeing?

Crossing the street at night time feels like playing with death sometimes. With all that firework of honking horns and blinding headlights and crazy driving.
After walking home the last part one late night, when I was ill and very dizzy, I was thankful that I made it home alright. At times I could be on the other side of a street and not remember crossing the street, and at times I realized that I just crossed the street without even looking because my head was floating somewhere else.

The streets are obviously very, very alive. In some areas they have long, long streets full of street markets selling everything you can imagine. I haven't really taken the time yet to discover it in too much depth yet.

But in all honesty... after having lived in Bombay for almost three months now, I have to say that what was exotic and exiting has in many ways lost its charm. It feels a little like the same old same old now, and even though I do get reminded every day about the living conditions that people have, and it still affects me, I have at the same time been partially accustomed to passing beggars. Not that I really ignore them ..but, I don't know. I still feel helpless. Giving them money is just the easy answer to a bigger and more complex problem.

One thing that hit me emotionally earlier this week though, was when I passed some prostitutes standing against a wall, on my way to the City Centre mall. I have felt sorry for them every time I have passed them, but this time it was even worse when i saw how young some of them were. They didn't look older than 15-16 years old. I felt so helpless. I wanted to do something, but didn't have a clue what. A simple smile could be mistaken for an invite or something else. I couldn't talk to them - even if I spoke their language or they English - what would I say? Would a simple "hello" also be mistaken for an invite? They stand there, not meeting the eyes of the people passing by. Often they don't say anything ether, other than once or twice when I didn't understand what they said.