Friday, December 13, 2013
Life Under the Bridge
After a couple days in Mumbai and no luck booking a train, we jumped on a sleeper bus headed for Udaipur.
I freaked myself out the night before by reading horror stories about transportation gone wrong in India. Seeing the dirt covered double decker bus that we climbed into, my worries definitely didn't dissipate. The "sleeper beds" above the seats were very dirty, kinda run down, and the windows didn't fully close. I climbed up into the berth hoping immensely there were no bed bugs and lice, spread out a scarf, and settled into my space for the next 20 hours.
Off the bus went weaving through the small streets and big highways of Mumbai. Fancy high rise buildings juxtaposed the endless slums as the city slid by in a seemingly endless fashion. Two hours later and we were just hitting the outskirts of the city.
The bus pulled to the side of the road, and the engines cut off for the next hour. As the bus was loaded with supplies, I peered out the window and looked to see where we had stopped. We were beside an underpass for a highway. Under the bridge a variety of people had made the space their home. Families huddled around small fires. Animals roamed freely. I most vividly remember fire crackling, chickens eating garbage, and naked children running around with broken toys.
For an hour I sat and observed life under the bridge. It was fascinating and upsetting. I sat in the upper storey of the bus and peered down at a life I am thankful never to have experienced. So much poverty, sickness and hardship. The obvious disparity of Mumbai's rich and poor. Looking down I was reminded of what really matters in the end: food, shelter, and friendship. As the children ran, laughed and played I thought "if these kids can be so happy here, then maybe one day the rest of the world can be this happy too."
Caitlin
I freaked myself out the night before by reading horror stories about transportation gone wrong in India. Seeing the dirt covered double decker bus that we climbed into, my worries definitely didn't dissipate. The "sleeper beds" above the seats were very dirty, kinda run down, and the windows didn't fully close. I climbed up into the berth hoping immensely there were no bed bugs and lice, spread out a scarf, and settled into my space for the next 20 hours.
Off the bus went weaving through the small streets and big highways of Mumbai. Fancy high rise buildings juxtaposed the endless slums as the city slid by in a seemingly endless fashion. Two hours later and we were just hitting the outskirts of the city.
The bus pulled to the side of the road, and the engines cut off for the next hour. As the bus was loaded with supplies, I peered out the window and looked to see where we had stopped. We were beside an underpass for a highway. Under the bridge a variety of people had made the space their home. Families huddled around small fires. Animals roamed freely. I most vividly remember fire crackling, chickens eating garbage, and naked children running around with broken toys.
For an hour I sat and observed life under the bridge. It was fascinating and upsetting. I sat in the upper storey of the bus and peered down at a life I am thankful never to have experienced. So much poverty, sickness and hardship. The obvious disparity of Mumbai's rich and poor. Looking down I was reminded of what really matters in the end: food, shelter, and friendship. As the children ran, laughed and played I thought "if these kids can be so happy here, then maybe one day the rest of the world can be this happy too."
Caitlin
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