The Bombay Slums and the Coconut water

A true story that unravelled in 1977 during my very first visit to India. It was in Bombay and I was confronted with the most amazing families and children living in a 'slum' like township. These are memories that will forever be alive.

I was watching slumdog millionaire the indian movie in english on Cinemax and I could not help but recall the most beautiful week I ever spent in Bombay and that was a long 33 years ago! And it a story, true story, of how I visited a slum upon the request of its inhabitants!
For 7 days, i would buy coconut for a group of kids. It became an everyday thing since they would come at the cement bench near the hotel. I would be sitting at the bench with an uncle and my brothers, sisters. The kids came to ask for money when I asked my uncle - who spoke perfect Hindi - to ask them if they wanted coconut water instead? They seemed excited and they would sit on the pavement, enjoying the coconut and the sunset while the waves of the ocean crashed on the rocks and the bricks that formed the barrier.
After drinking, the kids, at least half a dozen of them would say 'shukria' and would run back to where they came from but not without saluting even from far. The next day I was surprised to see the same kids again while we were sipping our coconut water. So I asked them if they wanted some? They nodded yes and we bought for them too. This would become a ritual for days until the last day of my stay in Bombay and that was in 1977.
On that very day, one of the tiny boy with dirty feet and the hair that has never seen a comb, said something exciting to him and his friends. My uncle translated it for me and the kids wanted us to buy a gift for his mother's birthday. But he wanted coconut water for the mother. And soon enough a little girl wanted coconut water for her mom too.
Yet the children would not want us to leave and wanted us to follow them to deliver the 'birthday' gifts in order for the parents to be satisfied that they did not 'steal' the coconuts. I was wondering why would they be so cautious since they came from the 'slums' and the reputation of slums kids were that they would steal or beg. These children seemed nice, well behaved and very appreciative of what we little we shared with them.
The boy and the girl took my hand to lead me to the slum which was across the road, facing the sea and only 5 minutes away from the busy main road in Bombay. Before crossing the road, we bought some 'chili cake', laddoos and Samousa's which are Indian specilities. To my astonishment there was a city of mud and cow dung with people - mostly ladies - waiting in colorful dresses. It was a welcoming party as the other kids had run to the slum to inform that the foreigners were coming to bring 'gifts' for Rakesh's mother and that we also bought gifts for Farida's mother too.
The ladies greeted us, some with Namaste and some with Salam and others with barroque English 'Velkam'. I was impressed with their homes which they surprisingly allowed us to see and one of the ladies, who happened to be Rakesh mother asked if we wanted 'chai'. She said" Chai Piyo, if I may recall.
But instead, I told her in English that I brought gifts for them and we gave them the coconut water in plastic bags, the cakes and I rolled some rupees in my hands to give to the three ladies who hugged me so tight that they cried and I cried too.
With my hand covering my eyes I down on my feet and allowed the two tiny lovely ones, the boy and the girl, to hug me too as they dragged me down with their weight. They kissed my cheek and said 'shukria', 'shukria' and a man came to explain that this was part of the city of Bombay and the people were not Slum dwellers but working people who did not have a place of stay and the Municipality allowed them to build these rag-tags homes. It broke my heart as that was the very last day we were spending in Bombay and I wish it was the first because i would have spent all my money on the children.

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