An Afternoon in Mumbai, India
Sit, Madame
It was a typical day. I awoke to the horns of taxis and tuk-tuks, to the smells of street food and the sun, appearing through smog on the horizon. I laced up my running shoes and set out to move my body before the heat of the day set in. As one learns quickly in Mumbai, crossing the street is not for the preoccupied. With intent and confidence, I weaved through traffic, both pedestrian and mechanized, moving with the current, like fish in a stream. Agile and spry, I dodged women trying to sell me flowing pants and men suggesting I try the famed “pan,” a tobacco-filled leaf that turns teeth orange. (I declined.)
The day was off to a perfect start. I navigated people, cars and the familiar streets of India’s largest city. As much as I reveled in the chaos and felt my adrenaline surge with every step, I longed for quiet. Running began for me in the mountains of Colorado after all, and although I began to enjoy Mumbai, bemused by her cacophonous nature, I missed crisp air and wooded canopies.
And then I saw it. Amidst the densely-packed streets, I saw a pristine archway adorned with a sign, welcoming me into a park. (A park!) Running in rhythm with my breath and the music in my ears, I entered. The grass was pristine. The pathway, a reminder of the trails near my Denver home. As I marveled at my luck in finding such a “diamond in the rough,” a staunch man in uniform stepped out in front of me, waving his arms. “Namascar,” I greeted him. Without a salutation, he said to me, “No running, madamé. Sitting and walking only!”
Hi! I’m Susan.
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“No running, madamé. Sitting and walking only!”
Confused, I looked around me. What I hadn’t noticed upon my heart-rate induced entry to the park, were paper signs with icons of people sitting cross-legged and instructions in Hindi and English: “Walking and sitting only.” When I stopped, I realized the people in the park were either in seated meditation or slowly walking the path, taking time to observe their surroundings or their minds.
I apologized to the security guard and began my slow walk. Eventually, I sat. I took a breath and paused. The juxtaposition of Mumbai, wealth flanked by poverty, immaculate temples shrouded by overcrowded markets, loud noise contrasted by deafening silence, helped me understand the paradox of life.
We are constantly tempted to succumb to the mayhem of the mind, to the tumult in our relationships and in our jobs. We sequester our hearts and our emotions behind veils of blame and fear. We run with the crowd, hoping to avoid being injured. But when we allow ourselves to walk and even sit, we might just recognize that the safest place of all has been and will always be within.
