Goodbye Mumbai

I was afraid to go to India
With its people , the numbers of people
and the number of those who were locked into poverty.

I was afraid to see it all
the dirt
the mud
the shit on the street

I knew it existed but did I need to see it?

I went anyway
armed with my fears of confrontation and wariness
yet craving some delicious food
yet wondering what would attack the internal workings of this delicate body.

Yes it was all there
The sheer numbers and the poverty
The tired faces, lined and weathered
bare footed children wading through the garbage
Tuk Tuks... fast,
a blast of a ride

but the world lit up when a woman in a lime green sari walked by
another in a lurid pink
another in the aqua of the sea
red, orange, green, gold, yellow
So much beauty
turning the world on its shoulder
as how can such beauty exist within the mud
and the eyes of the children earnest and wondering about this blonde white woman
walking through their world
confident of her place
secure in the knowledge of being white
and the status it has

The words of our guide through the laundry area
told me to forget the pomposity of my mind
the feelings of sorrow
proudly he spread his arms as we stood on the rooftop of a laundry building....
"this is my Mumbai.... isn't it beautiful?"
I saw through his eyes
his family,
the buildings
the community
the love
He didn't see what I had seen
I'm glad
My self satisfied view of a world I could never understand
was brought to account
You don't have to be white
you don't have to be wealthy
Happiness can seek you out and clasp you in her warm embrace
softly speaking
soothing hands
This is my Mumbai , he said, smiling.

But I had to leave
perhaps never to return
I couldn't love
Tears veiled my vision
I said goodbye