The red sari that sailed the streets of Mumbai

Mumbai is a wonderful city, well what I've seen of it anyway. It's huge. Some 14 million people live in this city and there was evidence of this wherever we turned. Geographically speaking Mumbai is long and skinny (technically speaking) and so is surrounded by water. Some of the bridges are magnificent and beautifully lit at night. We are staying in south Mumbai in an area called Colaba which has a distinctive colonial feel. The Sassoon docks and the marine parade are a minutes walk and make for a really nice morning walk to go and get a descent coffee.

I've spent the last few days wandering the streets. Down the end of our road I purchased some water from a lovely girl in a deep blue sari. Her shop, wrapped in a square and hugged closely around her, was lined top to bottom with crisps, Indian snacks and sweets, water, lighters and cigarettes. The layout reminded me of a shed we had down the bottom of our property in Eastbourne when I was four years old. My sisters and I used to play shops for hours, lining the shelves with jars and cans of food to sell to our imaginary customers. Preparing the shop was always the most fun.

One of the main shopping districts is Colaba Causeway, a bustling area with tourists and locals mingling about. Every meter or so vegetable vendors sit with their fruit and vegetables displayed before them, the pinks of the pomegranate shine under the mid morning haze. Every building has its own distinctive exterior, my favourite is the turquoise brocade apartments, with windows strung open and shutters pulled revealing linen hanging to dry. Jess and I went into several shops to try on various clothes. Rather than changing rooms they use trial rooms, which I thought was super cute. After all, we were trialing the clothes, if only for a minute. Some shops don't have a trial room, only mirrors. I asked a man, all dressed in white, if he had a trial room and he said 'no, it's your size'. I had a quiet chuckle. That's not the point mister. I did like the conviction in his voice, however, and I thought it was a very useful strategy to use.

On this day in Mumbai there were vendors galore as we made our way along the arts precinct. We passed a woman with a monkey on a chain and I quickly turned away so as to avoid any contact with woman, monkey and feeling associated with woman, monkey and chain. Further on we walked past several men selling their artwork, all beautiful pieces with vibrant colors known to India. I ended up purchasing a lovely painting created by a local man named Sanjay. I have become accustomed to the street life. As it was a public day there were people everywhere. On one corner an infant was tight rope walking with something balanced on her head. Not the usual extra-curricular activity for children under the age of four, but maybe in Mumbai it is? On the next corner a mother had tied a piece of fabric between two posts and was using it as a hammock to swing her baby high into the air, and I mean high. As we made our way back along the Cooperage maideen there were hundreds of men lounging, leaning, watching and playing the countries prized sport, cricket. I have lost count of the number of times I have been asked about cricket. It is the sport that binds us. Watching these games from outside the fence I could feel the energy it created. In the next street we pass a man on a bicycle transporting several cartons of eggs. What an amazingly optimistic means of transportation.

The last image of Mumbai that sticks in my mind is wonderful yet surprising. It is the image of a women. She sits sidesaddle on the back of a motorbike, her red sari glistening in the wind as it flows out behind her. Such delicate fabrics atop such oily pieces of machinery. I love the contrast it creates. These bikes weave in and out of the traffic, and it still amazes me how women are able to sit on the back with babies in their hands and feel at ease. While it sits under a sea of smog, it is a wonderfully vibrant city and I hope to return another day for masala tea and a lassi.