India, Bombay, New Bombay: A fixed point observation of life in India by a Japaneses sleepy dog

Being tempted by an evil spirit, I finally started looking for a car. You may ask “Do you even have an Indian driver’s license?” Nope! So I started going to a driving school to get an Indian driver’s license at the same time.

I never had the idea of driving a car in Bombay before. Bombay roads are the craziest thing. Cars go down in the wrong direction, crazy traffic jams, street kids and beggars, dogs, cows, goats, and auto-rickshaw, auto-rickshaw, auto-rickshaw…(endless). Also Bombay public transportation is quite convenient. So I used to say “I am not in a rural area of Aichi anymore. A metropolitan doesn’t need a car.”

Things changed after I visited Mahabareshwa and Lonavara, big hill stations near Bombay by car. If you drive just one hour away from Bombay, you have everything that you can’t get in Bombay; beautiful mountains, sea, river, and villages, full of green, clear air, fresh vegetables and fruit, and animals. How nice if I have my own car to visit all places and takes photos.

My old boss used to say “Visualize, so it comes true.” Once there’s a picture in your head, you can’t resist painting it. OK, I want to get a car. I want to drive myself to Lonavara in the rainy season with my friends, or Aliberg beach and eat a king fish. I want to take a long trip along the Konkan coast down to Goa. Alright, that’s my goal in this year; real “Bombay To Goa.” We would play the movie songs with my car stereo on the way.

Only things to do are get a license, become a good and tough driver, and get a good condition car. That shouldn’t be too difficult. Life is always about challenging or not-challenging. Starting a new business, writing a book, playing a trombone, getting married or having a baby; I don’t do all those life-turning things, but buying a small car in a foreign country where I never know when the government suspends my working visa is an enough risky but exciting project. Anyway, the best strategy of life is saying “I do” by heart and then think about how to do that. It’s not the other way around.

My friend said “Yes, you may die by car crash, but at least people will think ‘Oh ok, so she had a car!’, that’s better than just being hit by a car. So don’t worry.” That’s a relief. But no, I will be a super safety driver protected by God for no traffic accident. It’s about visualization.

Two months ago, one Tibetan family opened a small food stall of momo on the street in front of my office. Momo is a Tibetan food which is very similar to steamed gyoza, Chinese dimsum.

A young Tibetan boy opens the small stall at 2 p.m.; the stall is only 1.5 meter wide and 1 meter deep. Very small wooden counter only. He puts a triple-decker steamer on a small gas stove and lines up gyoza which he prepared at home in each level of steamer. Turns on the gas and waits for the first customer. After five when the hottest time is over, his mother joins at the stall and cooks more momos for people who are on the way home.

I found this stall a week ago. I happened to see the handwritten sign on a cardboard hanged up on the street. It said “Momo, Veg/Non-Veg, Rs. 20.” They serve 5 pieces of momo with a cup of vegetable soup. The momo, especially their veg-momos remind me the nostalgic Japanese gyoza taste (which I don’t remember exactly since I haven’t had it for more than three years). Since then, I go to the stall almost every day and have a plate of momos.

Everytime I go, I explain to the shopkeepers how much I like their momos and how it’s better than the fake momos sold in fancy shopping malls. The mother says “Of course it’s good because I cook it here in front of you. It’s fresh, and it’s a real Tibetan momos.” She actually doesn’t speak so much English, and I don’t speak Hindi, so a book shop keeper next of the momo stall jumps in and translates for us in between.

Before I came to India, I had never thought of myself finding nostalgia in Tibet. Tibet was a far and mysterious country that I never be related. But we have similar features; many Indian people recognize me as Tibetan. And here in Bombay, where the signs of Japan are so lack, I feel like Tibet is another blood family and Tibetan momos make me feel safe.

I guess Tibetan people living in Bombay also miss the country and find Japanese people as a little closer relative. They are often waiters at restaurants, local shop keepers, or beauticians. When they see me, they ask my name and nationality. Indian people also do the same thing often, but with more curiosity to things that is not familiar for them. But Tibetan people do this with more friendly gesture, and whatever my answer is, they look like satisfied to find a similar face person near by them anyway.  

Strangely, the Tibetan momo is becoming the taste of my sweet home nonetheless I’ve never been to Tibet in my life. Maybe…., one looks for a connection, especially being away.