Mumbai stories - 2 The Lives Of Others

One of the great things about travel is the opportunity it offers to meet and hear the stories of people whose lives are different to our own. During my recent time in India I met many people who were happy to give me a little of their time, to tell me about themselves and who in turn wanted to know about me. Several times I was struck by people's attitudes to their lives, accepting what had been dealt to them and displaying a generous heart to a stranger who they are unlikely to meet again. I was to witness this approach to life throughout my visit but perhaps no more so than in a few days I spent in the streets and bazaars of Mumbai, often thought of as one of India's most modern cities but which still has many neighbourhoods in which the old India can still be found.

Samuel, Gates of Mercy Synagogue "I am happy here"

Masjid Bunder is one such place. Mumbai is home to the last numerically significant Jewish community of India. About 3,000 Jews remain in a city of more than 20 million people. There are still a number of working houses of prayer but attendance dwindles as the community becomes smaller. The Gates of Mercy synagogue is tucked away behind a wall in Masjid Bunder. Masjid generally means mosque but was also the local term for synagogue. Bunder means port. I was welcomed to the building by the keeper, former print worker Samuel aged 72. He told me a little about the history of the building and invited me to light a candle whilst he said a blessing. He said that there are no longer enough congregants for a daily minyan (prayers) but that he receives many visitors from overseas as well as from community members. He went on to explain that although he might be better off in Israel where several of his friends and relatives now live, he is too attached to his neighbourhood to leave. "When I close the doors of the synagogue I know I will meet friends in the street and we will stop to talk for a while. I would miss that. I am happy here".

Water carrier

Outside the chai shop

Still in Masjid Bunder, a short walk from the synagogue there is a street in which all day long porters carry water from a well to local restaurants and temples. It is easy to identify these workers. They carry large metal jugs and trail backwards and forwards to the well possibly hundreds of times during their working day. Although water is available inside the buildings, temples prefer water from the well for rituals and ceremonies and some of the businesses may only have access to running water for a limited number of hours each day. There is also an excellent chai shop in this street and as I waited for my drink I was able to watch the continuous procession of water carriers as well as to exchange a few words with some of them as they took a short break for chai. Some sat in groups, others alone, seemingly lost in thought. One man with startlingly white hair. He is pictured above. His fatigue is obvious and his hair colour and white stubble make him appear older than he may be, but his eyes shine and his face carries a hint of a smile. 

It was whilst drinking my chai that I noticed Manjula. A tiny woman with vivid hennaed hair, she smiled and stopped to talk. She carried a heavy bag full of snacks that she had made to sell from door to door. Looking tired and older than her 62 years she told me that her son had some problems that made it difficult for him to work and so she tries to make a little money in order to get by. She had hennaed her hair a few weeks earlier so that she would look her best at a relative's wedding, She smiled at the memory of that happy day. I wanted to buy a chai for her or to purchase some of the snacks. She refused saying that she believes her life is difficult because of something she did in a previous incarnation. She does not wish to build up debts for a future life and believes that if she makes amends now things will be better next time. She shed a tear whilst talking and my guide hugged her calling her aunty. And off she went. The lives of others.

Manjula offered to share an apple with me. She was not the only person to display such generosity that morning. An older man sitting amongst a group of porters said that he was looking for a job. Also a porter he explained that he gets less work now than when he was younger and asked if I knew of anywhere he could find permanent employment. He said that he would even come to London with me if I could find work for him. Despite this, he wanted to buy tea for me, an offer I had to decline.

Manjula

Porter in Masjid Bunder

The Bhendi Bazaar is a sprawling market in South Mumbai. It is said that its name originates from colonial times when the British referred to it as behind the bazaar in reference to its close proximity to Crawford Market. Residents of the area are primarily Muslim although the traders are drawn from various faiths. Shoppers can buy meat, fruit, vegetables and spices here as well as household goods and the services of various repairers. 

Suleiman is 72 years old. He was born in Zanzibar into a Gujarati family that had lived there for a couple of generations. They were forced to leave in the 1970's when many Asian families were expelled from East Africa. He works in one of the narrow lanes of the bazaar and keeps the tools of his trade in a cupboard that he unlocks every morning. He was repairing an iron when I met him but he told me I can repair anything. Like Manjula he said that he accepts what life has given him and is thankful for the good things. Before we parted he asked me to come and see him again. I would like that.

Just around the corner from Suleiman's stall there are several small restaurants and food stalls selling meat based dishes. The meat is prepared from early morning in massive cooking pots and then served in the evening when the area is flooded with hungry locals. One stall was operated by a man called Mehmood. He said he was cooking beef which in India means buffalo since it is forbidden to kill and eat cows. I told him I am a vegetarian. I was not sure he believed me as this seemed to provoke some mirth and a cry of take my picture I'm famous, I've been on television and in the newspaper. So I did.

Suleiman "I can repair anything"

Mehmood "take my picture, I'm famous"

Opposite Mehmood's stall there are several small shops selling a range of foodstuffs. Luckily for me, the wooden doors of one shop had been pulled closed to display a brightly coloured advertisement for surma, a cosmetic worn around the eyes and which many people believe protects the wearer from the evil eye. It is also known as kohl. I could not resist this stunning backdrop particularly when the papaya vendor sitting in front of it signalled his agreement to be photographed.

The Pydhonie neighbourhood is close to the Bhendi bazaar, on the opposite side of traffic clogged Mohammed Ali Road. The name is derived from two Marathi words - py meaning feet and dhonie, which means to wash.  When the city was still a collection of islands, a small creek would form here at high tide which may explain the how the name came about. It was in Pydhonie that I met Mr. Shah. A Jain businessman, he has an ayuverdic medicine shop, established more than 60 years ago. I noticed his friendly smile and crisp orange shirt whilst he was serving a steady stream of customers, who were requesting his advice before making purchases. During a short lull in trade he  sent one of his workers to buy tea for me, explaining that he wanted me to go away with good memories of our encounter so that he will not have bad karma for having neglected me. Respect for and reverence of guests is strongly ingrained in Indian culture. It is even codified in Hindu scripture as well as being observed by other communities.

Mr. Shah's is one of several ayuverdic medicine shops in Pydhonie. Mohanbhai is one of his close neighbours. Aged 62, he explained that his family originally came from Karachi, but left during partition, going first to Gujarat before eventually settling in Mumbai and opening the business. This is a place where everyone has a story.

Papaya seller and Surma advertisement

Mr. Shah and his ayuverdic medicine shop

Mohanbhai

Mumbai is a city that wakes up early. Thousands of people begin work in the early hours of the morning, many of them coming in by train from surrounding towns and villages, beginning their journey the night before. These include the people who work at the city's flower market which operates 24 hours a day and includes less formal traders in addition to those that have shops. Whilst walking through the market I noticed several small groups sitting together, selling cut flowers, marigolds and jasmine. Several of these people live outside of Mumbai and at first were a little shy about being photographed. To my surprise, one of the slightly older women, sitting alone, indicated to my guide that she would like me to take her picture. This seemed to smooth the way with some of the neighbouring vendors and I soon had a number of willing participants.

The flower seller who asked to be photographed

...and one of those who followed her

The flower sellers are not the only people out early in Mumbai. Across the road from the Chhatrapati Shivaji station, dozens of men sit sorting the day's newspapers for delivery to shops, offices and homes. Many of the sorters are unable to read and write yet are still able to sort the papers into seven different languages without making mistakes. Some of them work independently whilst others work with groups of friends or family like the man pictured below who works with his two sons. Some of the sorters work on the road whilst others work underneath the canopies of shops and stores that will open in a few hours' time. It is also possible to see people sleeping between the piles of papers and the sorters. Some may be the families of sorters. Others are people who have nowhere else to live. 

Mumbai offers many visual delights. I love the colours of this city - the brilliant combinations and hundreds of shades of green, red, blue and yellow that feature on the city's buildings and act as a backdrop to the activities of its residents and visitors. It can also be a city of visual shocks. Mumbaikers consume thousands of chickens every day. They are delivered to various points in the city via trucks from which they are carried to the slaughterer, suspended on rope and wrapped around the necks of the workers transporting them. It is an odd site. From a distance the chickens look like a strange garment wrapped around the waist of the porter. The fowl are strangely quiet, perhaps aware of their fate. One of the porters, a young man, stopped, offered me a half smile and allowed me to photograph him. I was surprised to learn that visitors may enter the abattoir and to witness the slaughter. I decided against it, preferring instead to press on to the flower market. 

Newspaper sorter near Chhatrapati Shivaji station

The chicken man

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Thank you to Ranjana Jain who led me through Masjid Bunder, Bhendi Bazaar and Pydhonie and who made it possible for me to speak to Manjula, Mr. Shah, Mohanbhai and several others. She can be contacted at ranjana.j.india@gmail.com

The newspaper sorters and flower sellers can be seen as part of the Mumbai By Dawn tour offered by No Footprints.

Mumbai stories 1 - The Koli of Worli Village

The Koli people are an ethnic group native to Maharashtra, Rajasthan, Gujarat and a number of other Indian states. Perhaps the longest continuous inhabitants of Mumbai they were there when the city was a collection of islands but became increasingly marginalised during the colonial period and were pushed out of areas that became prime real estate.  There is a strong matriarchal dimension to Koli society. The women have traditionally been very powerful and hold a dominant position in domestic and business matters. Most Kolis are Hindus but in Mumbai a significant number are Catholics descended from people converted by the Portuguese in the 16th century. Historically the Kolis have dominated fishing,  the men going to sea and the women selling the catch.

Waiting for treats

This elegant Koli lady was sitting in the Main Street

I had two encounters with the Koli people during my recent stay in Mumbai, both organised through the No Foot Prints company. The first was at 5.30 a.m. at the Sassoon Docks where hundreds of Koli women come to select fish from the previous night's catch, to barter for it at a fast and furious auction and to take it away either for re-sale or in response to orders placed by regular customers. The Koli women are renowned for their honesty and if they feel the fish is not of an appropriate standard they will tell their customers that they cannot fill their order, preferring to offer an alternative catch. Early morning at Sassoon Docks is not for the feint hearted. It can be a real scrum but it is fascinating to see the fish being unloaded, passed from boat to boat and then to the dock without labelling or documentation, yet everyone knows who each catch belongs to. Do not go there expecting social interaction. The women are completely focused on getting the fish they came for, at the best price and then whisked away as soon as possible. This is how they earn their living and they have only a few hours in which to get this done.

My second meeting with the Koli people was very different. I spent a morning in Worli Village, home to a large Koli community and where I was made to feel very welcome. The village has a market selling fish (of course) and other foodstuffs, several small food and tea shops, general stores, temples, churches and almost everything needed for everyday life. Some of the children go to school outside but others are educated in the village. There is even a gym here - established by one of the local men in the long neglected fort, now tidied up and used as an important local facility.

Fish vendor, Worli market

Parvati sells vegetables in the market

Selling vegetables outside the house

The vendors who are almost entirely female prefer not to buy their fish from Sassoon as they say it is too far to go and instead rely on more local sources. Worli market is a world away from the business carried out at Sassoon Docks and the women were happy to stop, chat a little and even to be photographed. Whilst most of them sell fish and sea food there are a number of fruit and vegetable stalls right beside them. This is not normal practice in India as vegetarians would not normally buy their food from stalls that neighbour those selling meat or fish but for the Kolis fish is the staple diet and things are different here. Stalls are allocated by a market committee and are acquired on a rental basis. The market was relatively quiet when I visited with just a few shoppers and several cats waiting patiently to be offered treats from the women.

Say something in Hindi

Arun uses the gym recently established in the old fort

As I strolled along the main street several people called out hello, good morning and where are you from? - phrases that travellers hear a lot in India and which are indicative of the general friendliness of the people. When I stopped to buy chai at a teashop one of the younger members of staff exchanged a few words of English with me, asking about my work and family. One of his work mates called out to me to say something in Hindi. I have perhaps 20 words of Hindi that I can use confidently and know the meaning of but I wanted to do something more impressive. I decided to give them the words of one of my favourite vintage Bollywood songs. And to their surprise I said (not sang - a step too far even for me) Sar jo tera chakraye, ya dil dooba jaaye, aaja pyaare, paas hamare, kaahe ghabraye, kaahe ghabraye. Now I don't know the exact meaning of this wonderful tune from the film Pyaasa, performed by the inimitable Mohammed Rafi, but I know it's a song about head massage releaving all of one's troubles. For a few seconds there was a stunned silence, then mild applause and laughter and a request to hear it again. I duly complied and then moved on with an unwarranted sense of achievement.

A little further on Ram Shantaram was sitting on his front step, seemingly lost in thought. An elderly man, he wore a crisp cream-coloured shirt and had an interesting face, clearly a handsome man in his youth. I asked him for a picture. He agreed readily  and went on to say that his wife had died recently, that he was alone and that life was not good without company. Whilst he was speaking another elderly man came along, unsteady on his feet he joked that he is an engine that no longer works properly. So unsteady was he in fact that after holding on to my hand for a few minutes he was helped home by Adi, my guide who returned with chai for Mr. Shantaram and we stopped to chat a little more before moving on. I have become increasingly interested in older people in the last few years, perhaps because of growing older myself. I am frequently struck by the loneliness of some of these people, despite their being surrounded by strong communities. And yet other elderly people in the village seemed happy, content and confident like the two women pictured below who sat talking underneath their drying laundry.

Ram Shantaram

Five minutes rest

Friends

Some peace and quiet

Where has he gone now?

Of course there are also many young people in the village. Still on the main street I noticed a little boy and girl - sister and brother I presumed, standing beside each other on a step a few feet from their grandmother. Whilst she did not wish to have her picture taken she did not object to my photographing the children. By the time I turned back the boy had gone but the little girl remained standing there looking out as if to say where has he gone now. A bit like a mother looking for her children. Earlier, at the temple, I met a delightful family originally from Mumbai but now living in Ahmedabad. They had travelled all the way from their adopted home the night before, a train journey of about seven hours.,The came to visit the Koli temple and planned to return the same day. Seeing my camera, they asked me to take a group photo for them. I was happy to comply and have since sent it to Adi for forwarding via WhatsApp. I hope they like it.

The family and some more images from Worli Village.

All the way from Ahmedabad for the day

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My visit to Worli Village was faciliated by No Foot Prints who offer a series of walks in Mumbai designed to show visitors the less well known side of the city.

Ahmedabad - "Those Gujaratis will steal your heart with their food and their friendliness"

I can't say I wasn't warned. Before I left Delhi for Ahmedabad I was told that "those Gujaratis will steal your heart with their food and their friendliness". Well the food was fabulous and the generosity of the people astonishing. I don't think I've ever been anywhere quite like it. I was given free food in markets, drank countless cups of chai for which payment was steadfastly refused and was invited into the homes of complete strangers who saw me admiring their houses.

Ahmedabad is also a perfect city for photography especially in the  bazaars where I loved the colours of the fresh fruit and vegetables, the smell of the spices and the relaxed, unhurried attitude of the stall holders. People smiled, said hello or good morning and in some cases begin to engage me in as much conversation as we could manage given my ten words of Hindi. Chai was sent for during several of these interactions. Numerous people told me they had friends or family who had lived, worked or studied in London and one man, on hearing where I was from shouted Dewesbury, have you been to it?.  I haven't but he has.

Textile merchant Dewesbury, have you been to it?

Vendor, fruit market

Vendor, vegetable market

The narrow streets of the old city also offer rich opportunities for photography with their havelis, some of them 200 years old. Many are in poor condition, but others have been well looked after or recently restored. As I walked through the streets, admiring the buildings, people would appear at their doors, greet me and on occasion invite me inside to look around and even to take pictures. They were curious about my interest in architecture and some were happy to share their stories. Pankaj is 72 although he looks much younger. He saw me admiring his beautiful double doors and insisted on opening and closing them in various combinations to allow me to take pictures. He told me he is a Bachelor of Arts, once worked for Tata and then ran a business selling towels and bedding. Some years ago he had to give up work to look after his mother. She has now passed away and although he has siblings he lives alone. But I am happy he said.

Pankaj is a Jain as is Suraja. A petite, most charming lady she was the wife of a High Court judge. Now a widow, all of her family are overseas and she is cared for by two young women. Sitting in her living room with the main door open she noticed me looking at the building and called for me to come inside and to admire the decorative details above the internal doors. A very elegant woman, she insisted on removing her spectacles before I photographed her. This tidying oneself up before a picture is something that many older people do when a portrait is requested.

Pankaj  I am happy

Saruja

Much of life is lived in the street here. Having had a career that involved the promotion of reading and literacy, the sight of someone lost in a book is something that excites and attracts me. In one of the lanes I noticed an elderly woman sitting on the floor of her open fronted shop, Gujarati novel in hand, completely engrossed in what she was reading. I was able to get quite close to her without attracting attention but the sun was merciless on that day and it was hard to be sure that I had captured the moment. The result was not perfect but the picture below gives some idea of how reading can carry us away. There is a small bookshop not far from where I saw the reader. It was closed when I passed but there were piles of books outside. There was no obvious reason for this but it was good to know that once our friend has finished her book she won't have to go far to get another one.

The reader

New stock at the book shop

Relaxing on the platform

Usha waiting for her lift

Many houses in the old city have a raised platform on which domestic tasks or business can be carried out. I saw people using them as rest areas or in some cases as a place to wait for someone to come and meet them. Usha was waiting for her motorcycle lift. I was taken by the contrasting colours of her sari against the pale green peeling paint behind her. The girls in the white uniforms are waiting for their school bus. The older woman sitting behind them saw me with my camera and called me over to photograph the group. When I explained that I am from London she became very excited and told me that a family living in her building will be visiting there very soon. 

In the streets immediately beside the Swaminarayan Temple, there are several of these platforms, some of them rising to ten or more steps above the street. One particular platform runs the length of several houses. The range of activity being carried out there included an open air tailoring business, people hanging out their laundry, a dog resting and two street vendors sitting beneath the platform. Such colour and activity generated by a simple structure.

Waiting for the school bus

A busy morning in the old city

Those platforms are not the only outstanding architectural feature of the old city. There are some spectacular doors here too. Many of them are made from Burma teak which is resistant to termite infection and has enabled the doors to last for over a century. Ahmedabad doors are so admired that    owners are occasionally persuaded to sell them, sometimes for scandalously low amounts. One story has it that a homeowner in urgent need of cash let his doors go for just 20,000 rupees or just over £200. Surely the shipping would have cost many times more than this.

Ahmedabad's architectural heritage goes back several centuries and includes a number of stepwells, once numerous across India but now disappearing. Man made structures, they descend as many as nine levels into the earth to a pool of rain water once used for drinking, washing and other day to day items. Many of them had ingenious drainage systems allowing water used for one task to be re-used for agriculture and other purposes. As well as supplying precious water, the step wells are also a cool, shaded place providing respite from the blistering sunshine of a Gujarat summer. They are also works of art with ornate stone carvings in a range of styles due to different artists being used for each part of the structure.

The late 15th century Adalj Vav is the most well known of Ahmedabad's step wells but I also enjoyed visiting the Dada Hari Vav, built in 1500 adjacent to a mosque. Descending to the lower levels of the well, I noticed a series of red coloured hand prints printed on the walls. These are the marks of young women from the area, married into families in other cities who would leave their handprint here so that their parents could come and "visit" them whenever they wanted. The Dada Hair Vav had fallen into a shocking state, used as a rubbish dump and for illicit activity until Government intervened some years ago and ensured more appropriate care and management of this important monument.

Doors to the Mehta Haveli

Entrance to a Jain temple

Dada Hari Vav

Ahmedabad is also home to some of India's most iconic 20th century architecture. The streets around Relief Road contain many fine examples of Art Deco from the 1930's and beyond. The style seems to have lasted longer here than in many other places. Many of the buildings carry their date of construction with several not being completed until the 1950's. Sadly most of them are in very poor condition whilst others have been demolished or altered beyond recognition. I have been unable to find details of the architect for most of them and it seems that much of this important built heritage may be undocumented.

On a brighter note, the works of Le Corbusier and Louis Kahn have been accorded more respect and have been maintained at least reasonably well. Some of these buildings are difficult or even impossible to visit, especially the private homes. However, it is possible, by prior arrangement, to visit Kahn's magnificent Indian Institute of Management, completed in 1962. The highlight is Louis Kahn Plaza around which the library, classrooms and faculty offices are arranged. The spectacular red structure manages to combine modernity with references to the city's past, with its arches, columns and approach to providing light and shade.

It is also possible to visit Ahmedabad's Magen Abraham synagogue. Built in 1934, it was designed entirely in the Art Deco style and is the work of  Daniel Samson and Ellis Abraham Binjekar. The pink exterior has several classic deco motifs as does the interior, including sunbursts, ziggurats and speed lines.

Indian Institute of Management

Magen Avraham Synagogue

Art Deco building, Relief Road

Yusuf Patel, the New Irani Restaurant

Much as I love strolling in a city, I won't be happy unless I can find a cafe in which to retreat for a while. Thankfully the coffee chains do not seem to have arrived here. Instead there are numerous places that at first glance may seem run down, but don't be fooled, they are full of character and characters and offer good food at low prices. Yusuf Patel's family came to the city in the 1930's and in 1941 his grandfather established the New Irani Restaurant. Yusuf is the third generation to manage the business. Originally only chai was served but now snacks and meals can be had too. The building is partially open to the elements and in need of a lick of paint, but it is also atmospheric and very popular. Mr.Patel was keen to know what I thought of the chai. It was delicious. He happily posed for a picture but not before removing his glasses and straightening his clothing just as our friend Sara had done earlier.

The Chandravilas restaurant opened 120 years ago. It is famous for its thali but more so for its jelabis, freshly prepared near the entrance in full view of the street and the waiting customers. The sweet smell is irresistible and I succumbed to a small plate of them together with the obligatory cup of masala chai. Famous customers have included Mahatma Gandhi and Bollywood icon Raj Kapoor.

Preparing the jelabis, Chandravillas Restaurant

Ramesh

I cannot end this post without mentioning someone I met during my stay. Ramesh is a shoe shine. He works outside the Lucky Restaurant, sometimes alone and sometimes with his brother. Ahmedabad's streets are very dusty and I was happy to use his service more than once during my short stay. For a mere 20 rupees, my shoes were made to look like new. Not only that, he provides slippers for customers to wear whilst their shoes are cleaned which means you can nip into Lucky for a quick cup of chai whilst you wait. That's what I call customer service. Thank you Ramesh.

As I said at the beginning of this post, I was warned about the Gujaratis. They are indeed friendly people and their food is delicious. Ahmedabad suits me. I love its architecture, bazaars, chai stalls, cafes and most of all it's people. I have also been told that in India I must expect the unexpected. This must account for the girl who I saw tightrope walking at the side of road. Not only was she balancing on a rope, she was also carrying a series of vases on her head. I will sign off with her and with Gaurav, a stall holder in a small bazaar just outside the city and possibly possessor of the best smile in Gujarat.

Expect the unexpected

Gaurav, the best smile in Gujarat

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I Have Food, Water and Clean Clothes What Else Do I Need - Muna of Delhi

To be Hijra is to be neither male nor female but to possess elements of both. In India Hijras are recognised in law as a third gender and may adopt what is widely held to be female dress and behaviour. They have traditionally earned a living by collecting alms and by giving blessings and performances at weddings, births and festivals. Drawn from all religious groups, their devotion to Bahuchara Mata, a mother goddess comes before observation of any other faith they might follow. India's Hijra community has a recorded history of over 4,000 years.They are mentioned in ancient literature including the Ramayana and other important texts.  During the Mughal period some of them held high positions in the court and would be called upon for advice on religious matters or to give blessings during important ceremonies.

Muna is 70 years old and Hijra. She was born into a respectable Syed Muslim family, close to the Jama Mosque in Delhi.  Feeling different from an early age, she chose to leave the family and to live separately. Last week, together with my guide/ interpreter I had the privilege of spending an hour with her and hearing her story. For the first few minutes she was a little cold, sitting on the floor outside her home, rinsing out clothes and looking away from us as she spoke. As time went on she became more comfortable, spoke more freely and looked us in the eye. 

Muna is a guru and highly respected in the Hijra community. In the past she had students who would accompany her about the city, learn from her and eventually become gurus themselves, operating in different parts of Delhi. The former students still visit from time to time but do not provide any material support. She seems a solitary figure and when asked about family says that she has only superficial contact with them but wants nothing more. Due to her age she is eligible to receive a small amount of financial support from the government but has yet to do so. Despite this she describes herself as rich "I have water, food and clean clothes. What else do I need?".

This simple yet wise approach to life was displayed when during the course of the discussion we sent a small boy to bring tea from the chaiwallah. My guide asked him to bring 4 teas, one for each of us and another for the rickshaw wallah who had brought us to the meeting. Muna objected saying that we only needed 2 teas and 4 cups. She maintained that 4 teas is extravagant and chided us that we would not be able to look after our families if we "waste money on tea".

Muna is critical of what she describes as "fake Hijeras" involved in drugs, prostitution or crime. She says that they fear her when she walks in the red light areas and come to touch her feet and to give her respect and because of this she does not make trouble for them. Many of them come to her for blessings at festival times and on other important occasions. Respect is something that Muna talks about a lot. Although born a Muslim she respects all religions, is happy to give blessings to people of all faiths and will eat the food of any religious group if called upon to attend a wedding or some other ceremony. The only exception she makes is that she will not eat at the home of a family that consumes pork. Religion remains important to Muna but her devotion to Bahuchara Mata is of the greatest importance.

Towards the end of our time together she explained the reason for her initial disinterest. She is suspicious of outsiders many of whom come to her in order to make money and write or say disrespectful things about her. Some have promised help to complete an application in order to receive señor citizen's allowance but that help has not materialised.

As we stood to leave, Muna got up to give us a blessing, placing water on our foreheads and asking that we be safe and protected. I am not someone who could be described as spiritual but I felt a certain calmness from her, despite, or perhaps because of her direct way of speaking. Although there has been legislation to recognise the Hijras, abuse and discrimination is still widespread. It easy to change the law but not so easy to change attitudes and beliefs. I understood her preoccupation with respect.

Several writers say that the word "Hijra" has an Arabic source and means leave or migrate and interpret the word as being one who has left their tribe. Although Muna left her family and community many years ago she still lives close to the Jama mosque, part of a different tribe but not so very far from her previous one. I hope to meet her again.