After Elephanta Island, we decided to head down and see another famous Indian landmark, the HajiAli - a Muslim Mosque built out in the water, only reachable by walking a long pathway lined with the most destitute of India’s beggers (Giving alms to the poor is one of the 5 pillars of Islam).
After getting a banana shake from a famous fruit stand, we began our journey out toward the water. The surroundings turned instantly Islamic...no more visages in the artwork or posters, just Arabic calligraphic script. Women were veiled, the men wore traditional head-gear.
And the poor. Lepers, cripples, the blind...it was like something out of an old testament video. Starving, filthy, wanting a single rupee (2 cents), there were hundreds. We exchanged our money for coins and passed out over 400 coins total....and didn’t even make a dent, didn’t even make it halfway down the walkway. Passing out the final coin and seeing the look on the face of the next person down the line - it was heartbreaking.
The mosque itself was a stark cultural experience. We went inside, the men separated from the women, and watched as the women were beat with a peacock feather whip as an entry fee inside. Everyone rubbed their face on the central altar covering, drums were pounded, people were chanting. Interesting to say the least. At the end we sat near the water with hundreds of others, families making their pilgrimage, playing in the filthy water, making a day of it, and watched the sunset. It was inspiring...the epiphany hit me that this culture isn’t ours to fix...we were simply travellers, visitors, and despite the cruelties of the world and fate and whatnot, life went on, families laughed and played, jokes were told, and the world kept turning....no matter what side of it you called home.
This marked the end of my stay in India. A stay that i’ll never forget nor would want too. This place taught me about myself, about the world around me and its beautiful culture and people kept a piece of my heart.
Until next time India -
namaste.