Years ago when I was living in Bombay, I was taking an early morning train to work staring absent mindedly out the window as it rolled by one of the slums when I saw a young foreign man emerge from one of the modest houses. Had I been a more day dreamy mood I may have spent the rest of the train ride making up his reasons for living there, but on that particular day I had missed my coffee, it was hot as hell and if I remember correctly the person beside me was sitting too close for comfort so instead I thought to myself “well, that is stupid”
About a month before coming to Bombay this time I received a message from a local friend of mine inviting me to join him on his six mile runs along the sea. I replied immediately that I was “definitely in” and started to have populist fantasies of me running along the water, passing slight Indian women in colorful saris and laughing brown eyed children who would cheer me on and blow me kisses as I ran effortlessly by.
Well, it started well enough although just before we began I noted to myself that it still seemed to be about 40 degrees even though it was 7 in the evening. At first as we ran I chatted back and forth with my friend but not long into the run decided that maybe I should conserve my breath and just concentrate on running. Soon sweat began to drip down my forehead and into my eyes and I was breathing in deeply the hot pungent air. If you have never been to Bombay let me give you a word of advice, you DO NOT want to breathe in deeply that dirty polluted air, it is gross and no doubt I drastically shorten my life span by doing so. On our second pass even after having stopped to walk for a moment I was feeling dizzy, every breath I took only seemed to bring in more disgusting and indistinguishable smells. I briefly considered jumping in the sea for some sort of respite but wisely decided not to. Where were my laughing, cheering children? Instead all I saw as I trudge passed was general confusion and pity. Earlier in the day a friend of Mehernosh’s had described Kayan as “so cute, all chubby and pink” I realized at that moment that that would be the best possible descriptor that could be attributed to me now.
As we neared the end (after many walking breaks on my part) we passed a foreign couple I had seen earlier in the day, briefly our eyes locked and I knew without us talking what they were thinking as they gazed upon my bright red face, clothes dripping with sweat, the defeated look in my eye “well, that is stupid”
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