As much as I'm writing about going to clubs and bars, I want you all to know that I'm not spending my time here drinking beers and dancing on tables. Well, not exclusively anyway. I'm also trying to soak in some culture! With that in mind, tonight I went to Haji Ali, a mosque that is a local landmark in Mumbai. My flatmate Kevin and I did the trip to the mosque together. He arrived last weekend and is the third roommate in our apartment. He's from Orange County, CA and seems like a nice dude. The mosque is located on an islet off the coast of Worli (my 'hood), with a long concrete walkway from the shore to the building. The walkway becomes submerged at high tide, so you have to know the right time of day to go so that you won't get swept out to sea. Regardless, the result is that the mosque is a picturesque sight in Mumbai, and one of the city's most recognizable landmarks.
Quite a few people were walking on the rocks that are left exposed by the low tide. I'm not sure why they were walking down there - there was a lot of trash down there as well, and there were signs posted everywhere about swimming not being allowed. My best guess is that they were just taking a stroll by the water to enjoy the breeze?
The mosque itself is a beautiful building - built sometime in the 15th century. Its main draw - aside from the location - is that it houses the body of a saint from that time period (from whom the mosque takes its name). This saint was a wealthy man who gave up all of his worldly possessions to follow Islam, and was blessed with the ability to perform miracles. On a pilgrimage to Mecca, he died and asked his followers to put his casket into the sea. The casket miraculously drifted back to Mumbai (which is where he was from), and the spot on which it landed on the Mumbai shoreline is where the mosque was built.
Arriving at the entrance to the mosque, people were standing and taking photos on the stairs. I decided that all you blog readers would probably appreciate a photo with me actually in it, so I asked Kevin to oblige me. The resulting photo is actually pretty indicative of my time here - being very pale by comparison to the people around me. If you look closely, you will notice that the guy in the bright blue plaid shirt is turning around to stare at me as he walks down the stairs. I'm surprised he didn't trip and fall on his face.
Kevin and I reached the entrance to the sanctum where the tomb of the saint is kept, and everyone has to remove their shoes. There's a huge pile of shoes, and people standing around were telling us to just throw ours on the pile. This proposition posed two problems for me: 1. if I throw my shoes in the pile, how many pairs of mystery shoes am I going to have to dig through to find them again? and 2. remember the scene in Slumdog Millionaire where the kids steal people's shoes after they've removed them to enter the Taj Mahal? Yeah, I do. Kevin's and my solution to this issue was to remove our shoes and then put them into our bags. Shouldn't be a problem, right? No - the same people who were encouraging us to throw our shoes onto the pile watched us do this, and when we tried to go into the shoeless area, they start yelling at us that we're not allowed to carry our shoes into the area, even if they're enclosed in our bags. One man starts yelling at me that God is inside that area, and God doesn't want to be near my shoes. Anyway, I don't want to be disrespectful - though I don't quite understand the logic - so I throw my shoes next to the giant pile and enter into the area. Please note that Kevin and I couldn't enter together, as the sexes are separated inside the mosque.
The mosque itself is beautiful, but smaller than I had expected on the inside. Photos weren't allowed inside, so I can't show you what it looked like. The main focal point was the casket with the saint's remains. Women were standing in the alcove from which you could view the saint, and they had their arms outstretched in prayer with tears running down their faces. Others were sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading the Koran. It's a very peaceful place. An absurd divergence from the atmosphere was the prominently placed sign saying that "Visa and Mastercard are accepted for donations." Actually, there were about 5 of those signs, all very conspicuous. It definitely detracted from the spiritual atmosphere. Another odd thing about the place was that the men's side of the observation area seemed to have access to the casket itself. Some men were just approaching the relics and were touching the casket and picking up the cloths that were piled on top of it and kissing them. The women were not allowed such freedom - we could only observe, not touch.
On a final note, here's a photo of a mango I ate today. It's mango season here, and they are DELICIOUS. Mango season only lasts about a month, so we're here just at the right time. They are a different type of mango than the ones we get in the states (which I assume are grown in Mexico or somewhere in Central America). These are called alphonoso mangoes and are grown nearby. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmango.
The walkway itself is very crowded, and I was expecting it to be intimidating. I had read online about lines of beggars with illnesses, handicaps and deformities that we would have to walk past in order to get to the mosque. The reality was much less scary than I had been anticipating. Yes, there were beggars, but they weren't aggressive, and there was only the occasional amputee rather than the nightmarish descriptions I had read online. Interestingly, a popular gimmick seemed to be beggars who would bring scales with them for people to weigh themselves. Maybe most people here in India don't have access to a scale, so it is a service that people are willing to pay for? I don't know.
The view from the walkway - Worli in the distance, fishing boats in the foreground
On top of the beggars, there were stalls and stands set up along the walkway - peddling anything from religious paintings to street food to fake designer wallets. I even passed by a stand that had a hat with "I love Thailand" on it - which made me chuckle. Another common item for sale are these flower garlands that are handmade daily. We walked by the artisans making the garlands with bundles of fresh flowers - their fingers move so quickly! All of these stands seem to generate a lot of trash, which explains the herd of goats that seem to subsist off the refuse and live on the rocky flats during low tide. That does beg the question of where they go during high tide, but I'll leave that question unanswered. I'm not talking about only one or two goats - there were at least ten that I passed along the way.
Chickens, goats and children picking through the trash
Chillin' like a villain
Another remarkable part of the walk to the mosque are the other pilgrims (for lack of a better word). There are a ton of people visiting this place - wikipedia says that 40,000 will visit every Friday and Saturday. Given the crowds that we encountered, it's not difficult to believe that number to be accurate. This made for great people-watching. There were people from all walks of life - rich, poor, dressed in saris, burkas, western clothing, and countless other regional outfits. All were united by a common purpose of wanting to visit this holy site - it's pretty amazing when you think about it.
These saris were particularly beautiful - I had to take a photo
One of the nice things that I've noticed about people here is that men are not shy about showing fraternal affection in public - holding hands or putting their arms around each other is a common occurrence. This group of guys walking in front of us were walking along, laughing and holding hands most of the way to the mosque:
Quite a few people were walking on the rocks that are left exposed by the low tide. I'm not sure why they were walking down there - there was a lot of trash down there as well, and there were signs posted everywhere about swimming not being allowed. My best guess is that they were just taking a stroll by the water to enjoy the breeze?
The mosque itself is a beautiful building - built sometime in the 15th century. Its main draw - aside from the location - is that it houses the body of a saint from that time period (from whom the mosque takes its name). This saint was a wealthy man who gave up all of his worldly possessions to follow Islam, and was blessed with the ability to perform miracles. On a pilgrimage to Mecca, he died and asked his followers to put his casket into the sea. The casket miraculously drifted back to Mumbai (which is where he was from), and the spot on which it landed on the Mumbai shoreline is where the mosque was built.
Arriving at the entrance to the mosque, people were standing and taking photos on the stairs. I decided that all you blog readers would probably appreciate a photo with me actually in it, so I asked Kevin to oblige me. The resulting photo is actually pretty indicative of my time here - being very pale by comparison to the people around me. If you look closely, you will notice that the guy in the bright blue plaid shirt is turning around to stare at me as he walks down the stairs. I'm surprised he didn't trip and fall on his face.
Kevin and I reached the entrance to the sanctum where the tomb of the saint is kept, and everyone has to remove their shoes. There's a huge pile of shoes, and people standing around were telling us to just throw ours on the pile. This proposition posed two problems for me: 1. if I throw my shoes in the pile, how many pairs of mystery shoes am I going to have to dig through to find them again? and 2. remember the scene in Slumdog Millionaire where the kids steal people's shoes after they've removed them to enter the Taj Mahal? Yeah, I do. Kevin's and my solution to this issue was to remove our shoes and then put them into our bags. Shouldn't be a problem, right? No - the same people who were encouraging us to throw our shoes onto the pile watched us do this, and when we tried to go into the shoeless area, they start yelling at us that we're not allowed to carry our shoes into the area, even if they're enclosed in our bags. One man starts yelling at me that God is inside that area, and God doesn't want to be near my shoes. Anyway, I don't want to be disrespectful - though I don't quite understand the logic - so I throw my shoes next to the giant pile and enter into the area. Please note that Kevin and I couldn't enter together, as the sexes are separated inside the mosque.
The mosque itself is beautiful, but smaller than I had expected on the inside. Photos weren't allowed inside, so I can't show you what it looked like. The main focal point was the casket with the saint's remains. Women were standing in the alcove from which you could view the saint, and they had their arms outstretched in prayer with tears running down their faces. Others were sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading the Koran. It's a very peaceful place. An absurd divergence from the atmosphere was the prominently placed sign saying that "Visa and Mastercard are accepted for donations." Actually, there were about 5 of those signs, all very conspicuous. It definitely detracted from the spiritual atmosphere. Another odd thing about the place was that the men's side of the observation area seemed to have access to the casket itself. Some men were just approaching the relics and were touching the casket and picking up the cloths that were piled on top of it and kissing them. The women were not allowed such freedom - we could only observe, not touch.
On a final note, here's a photo of a mango I ate today. It's mango season here, and they are DELICIOUS. Mango season only lasts about a month, so we're here just at the right time. They are a different type of mango than the ones we get in the states (which I assume are grown in Mexico or somewhere in Central America). These are called alphonoso mangoes and are grown nearby. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmango.
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