Aluminum Trailers And Salt

Photo: http://picasaweb.com/lostconversation/Bombay

I got in Bombay on a motorcycle at night with the city trying to get to sleep. From
to the heart of the city, my brother Fahad guide me safely through this new world and gives me one thousand information on this entire city and India, I find myself amazed to dart between the architecture of a city that seems to fall apart, roads that overlap, mountains of garbage and people sleeping everywhere.
It 'good to be back in the game. At night

Bombay and 'almost silent, do not' traffic, but the roads are always full of people. Many people make the street their home, the street and 'of all.
Bombay is India such as New York is the United States, and in this land of opportunity 'everyone is playing his cards, there are no rules, the world is' the most cunning.
It 's a gold rush, such as California in 1800, Wild West atmosphere steeped in the decadent facades battered and neglect, and the soundtrack by Ennio Morricone.

From time to time with elegance stands a beautiful colonial building, which annulled a little distance and time that reminds us of the story here and 'past, and that if not' the abbot who are judged The same applies to people cities'.
Bombay has many stories to tell, stories that range from the sidewalks on the upper floors of skyscrapers in rapid escalation. From week to week
slum neighborhoods can be swept away by bulldozers and allow space for new residential areas for the new generation of rich bombaikers, or shopping malls with a multiplex cinema with, that's incredible, toilets and garbage cans!

A city 'with almost no sewerage or running water but whose inhabitants are electrical engineers and robotics enthusiasts, scholars and business experts.
Bollywood tells the story of wealthy families in musicals and share out the powerful local mafia land and buildings whose prices rise excessively, the gap between fiction and real life billboards that runs beneath them has an almost grotesque content
In this theater of the absurd there 'really room for everyone, from those who make religious ceremonies pivotal existential who feeds on heavy metal and other pagan deities'; Indians are people who believe, people who puts his heart, people who respect it.

A walk of five minutes in some districts of Bombay and 'a trip unparalleled ethnic and cultural, Indians from each province (many different) mix their turbans in a casino continuous horn and people shouting, work, between arrabatta animals and rubbish break the bank for a living.

I see flashes of British colonialism in some buildings, cups of tea flying down the street, in dialogue with experts in any field, in business-orientated people and an atmosphere that oozes experience, where life goes on every hole and you invest if you're not the eye, not by chance that I took a rickshaw straight face!

Bombay 'an outpost of India, along with China, threatens the economic superpowers of the West.
view from here looks like a joke but you know that math and now 'a review of budgets and numbers and statistics are mirror larks and speculators.
It 'still true that there are tycoons and wealthy districts over time become less and less Indian and more and more global, I try but I'd rather be in the very midst of the vulgar and sweat the day with the middle class, who dreams of houses and cars but eat street food with style and combs in the latrines public.

I lived the daily splash to get to work, lost hours between trains overflowing with people and traffic in unmanageable chaos, smog and animals, get to the office and 'the most' hard work is not 'nothing!
And every time you leave the house and throw yourself in the urban zoo something unexpected happens: cows, which impede the traffic that used to chase the bus Fantozzi, goats on the roofs of cars, vendors of junk that you have continuously unnecessary business, taxi carts which hinder human, all with a tribal rhythm in the background of incessant horn that confuses and dulls the senses.
I love Bombay.

The smells, well, let's say that my puzzometro and 'busted for some time now, but in moments of weakness I ... regret to China and that the' very well to say!
Nobody complains, indeed, the atmosphere and 'constantly alive and willing to life, they are grown in this slaughter, and we wallow here seeking their 15 minutes of fame, and everyone here' anything he wants.

Apparently, however, many are content to live and very little the street as the most precious, living in the middle of it, but the margins of society '...
The life of pavements and' self-pity of those who made unconsciously, as a profession, those who keep a child in her womb for added value for money a few rupees more.
And the day goes by, including smog, heat, smells, smiles and mischief. Then comes the evening, and after a dinner picked up here 'or' the mother lies on the ground a sarong, stacks of the few plastic bags containing all of the assets of the family and makes space for himself 'and his son, who crumples dusty toying with some object of luck.
Both seem calm, they perform the ritual of life that continues over time, And I see this scene without compassion I wonder what goes through one of their temples, what they think, what they want, what they look for, what makes them smile and what makes them cry?

I look up and realize that the square and 'full of different stories with similar results. I do not know what to think, I do not know how and when everything 'and' not even started and I think there should necessarily be an end: the very concept of human degradation here is annihilated after a while you're in India learn to neutralize your knowledge, take it off from the stand, 'cause they are many and a place to pile up on a pedestal in 8, with a smile.

but that's OK, everything makes sense in this world, if contextualised in the right environment.
And I must say, 'cause after lifting his head, I realize that in central Mumbai, in a few square meters, hundreds of people sleeping on the streets sharing every bit of dust when the other side of the sidewalk stand 2 to 5 hotel stars, limousines blazing, lights and gala dresses, smiling people and set strangled in evening gowns, out of place like a shit on a silver platter.

A minute ago I thought of those who sleep on the street and sees rich lives paraded before, but now I see who comes out of a limo and casually throws the eye on the bottom where they are untouchable ... and as always I will in the middle, to observe these lifestyles.

That 's my Bombay, where I spent a month out of hibernation to the great Korean, and after a Christmas surprise in the tropics Emilia are ready to live long awaited and dreamed of this India, starting from the south. The
subcontinent and 'where MahatMarco, looking for more questions' answers to that and resumed his journey.

Yo!

Photo: http://picasaweb.com/lostconversation/Bombay