Deborah Leipziger
What a wonder it is to fly all night and wake up in Mumbai. This is our first international flight together and it passes quickly as we drift in and out of sleep. This is my second trip to Mumbai—and Andy’s first to Asia. There is only one moment in flight that gives me pause. I love to watch the flight map, as we traverse the night. With a jolt I notice how close we are to Wuhan, but the thought passes, although it will come back to haunt us later.
We arrive at 2 am local time—and breakfast is just a few hours later. We have left Boston winter – of which February is the low point—to arrive in the sizzle of Mumbai. We decide to sit outside for breakfast. I notice a flash of green, and soon realize that we are being watched. Parakeets are alert to our arrival but they carry on with their singing as we select a table at the end of the deck. We perch on blue sky.
Part of it is jet lag and part of it is love. This buoyant feeling of being suspended in time with my Love, perched over the deck, with bougainvillea flowers. We note how close we are to a magnificent bridge which links Bandra to the rest of Mumbai. This bridge has many lanes of traffic but from where we sit it looks like a bridge between heaven and earth.
We have not eaten anything but bagels and lox the day before—our cream cheese confiscated because it was deemed a liquid.
The array of food at the hotel resembles a museum. I weave my way through copper pots filled with aromatic foods that I have never seen, foods from all over India. Saffron biryani rice studded with raisins and all kinds of curries and stews. We are instructed to begin by selecting a bread—either a dosa pancake, a naan bread, or a puri bread which is a puffy bread filled with air. I am fascinated by the idli—the rice cakes served with curries and coconut chutney, a regional specialty.
My first stop is the fruit—as I was born in Brazil and miss tropical fruits. I create a plate that looks more like a palette of paints in red, oranges and yellows. Here I find papaya, mango, pineapple, and watermelon. I add some salmon for protein. For me there is no better way to begin my day, although my stomach tells me it is night in Boston. Andy’s plate is piled high with naan bread, potatoes, lamb curry, white beans, and saffron rice, as well as a grilled tomato and congee.
I am here for a conference where I will speak on corporate sustainability at the Taj Hotel. We have come a few days early to adjust to the time difference and rest a bit from weeks of hectic work and from winter.
We are staying in Bandra—a part of Mumbai by Land’s End, where several Bollywood stars live. After our breakfast we are eager to explore. We walk out of the hotel and down a road where rickshaws have gathered. We decide to explore on foot. In our meandering we come to a Jewish cemetery—one which is quite old. Inside a rusted gate, we see headstones amidst the green. The arch overhead reads “Bandra Jewish Cemetery.” How fortunate that we have come across this as it makes me feel connected to my Jewish roots—even so far from home.