On the last day in Mumbai, we woke up late and caught a taxi downtown from Juhu Beach.  It was Sunday, so it was considerably easier getting there and the taxi was a cost savings over the private cars the hotel charges a half or whole day.  The cabbie dropped us at the Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya, formerly known as the Prince of Wales Museum, very near the Gateway to India.  We joined the throngs of Indian families who were making a day of it, just as we used to at the Smithsonian on Sundays when our kids were young.  Once again, we were the only Westerners there and we were aware of what a special treat were receiving to experience this day without throngs of tourists. We explored the painted miniatures and the black stone sculptures in the heat — no air conditioning for these priceless works of art, though they didn’t show the worse for wear — and then across the street to the National Gallery of Modern Art in Mumbai for a wonderful surprise.

Amrita Sher-Gill studied at the Ecole de Beaux Arts in Paris and returned to India in 1934 to experiment with several styles, always gravitating towards her experiences as a woman in India.  The Gallery hosted a fascinating retrospective of her work on the 100th anniversary of her birth, and since the exhibition is closing this week, it was filled with serious art lovers who were taking their time with the paintings, letters and other memorabilia.

The plan was to leave the exhibit and head back to the Gateway of India and the Taj Hotel, since the Mumbai Beatles distracted us from our touring the day before.  But Albert inserted himself into our day.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked.  “I can help.  I’m a teacher at the University of Mumbai.”  Was it the credential or Albert’s infectious smile that made us trust this man on the street?  He continued to ask us questions.  Where were we from?  Do you like to see temples?  Would you like to see the Ganesha temple close to here?  Come, he says.  I’ll take you.

And we followed.

I know that my dear readers are now shaking your heads in disbelief. But it was a big, busy street and Albert was so sincere.

Albert led us past the old synagogue, past the ho-hum mosque to a small temple dedicated to Ganesha, directly across the street from the Cricket stadium.  Immediately inside the temple gates, Albert explained that we were looking at an ancient Muslim burial ground and that this temple grew around it.  We are all sisters and brothers, he explained of the multi-faith community of this old street.

We could see a small temple inside the gate adjacent to the burial ground.  A priest performed a ritual with water on a banyan tree that grew next to the silver lingam and the statue of Ganesha.  Albert asked permission for us to come inside the temple with the administrator, Monesh.

The pews faced an ironworks of some sort…

“Welcome!  You are my sisters,” Monesh greeted us.  We said our Namastes to the priest and spent some time watching the ritual.  Then Albert took us to sit in what appeared to be pews, except that they faced what seemed to be an ironworks of some sort.

“This is where they burn dead bodies,” Albert explained.

Wha?

“If you are a wealthy man, they burn the body with sandalwood — very expensive.  If you are not so wealthy, mango wood.  If you are poor, banana tree.  It takes three hours for a body to burn.  See?  One is burning there.”

“Come see.  Come see!” Monesh encouraged us to take pictures.  The proud administrator showed us how they collect the ashes after they have cooled, and where they are stored until the family comes to take them to the Ganges, if they can afford the trip.  Here is a burial shroud.  There is where is they measure out the wood.  Please sign our guest book. Here — you look hot, please accept this cold Limca as a gift from me.  Thank you for coming to visit, Sister!

Albert, Monesh and their two sisters

Over the ice-cold Limca in Monesh’s office,  we had a great conversation with Albert, Monesh and a young Muslim man who worked at the temple, Siddiq, about the crazy spaces between people of faith, agreeing that we are all searching for the divine within and between people. They told Emma not to get married until she is finished with her studies.  I made a small donation to Monesh to help defray the cost of the cremation of the poor.

It was time to leave. Albert negotiated a really good price to Bandar Linking Road, the Fifth Avenue of Mumbai.  There, we dusted ourselves off — literally — and got down to the business of last day fashion purchases before we leave this magnificent city.