Zaahier Adams with the Proteas in India
I MUST admit, I boarded flight EK 560 from Cape Town via Dubai en route to Mumbai for my maiden voyage to India with the same trepidation of an American visiting Africa for the first time. Just replace the mindset of lions and elephants roaming Adderley Street with cows holding up traffic and snake charmers occupying sidewalks.
I was that naïve. Perhaps the scars of Dhaka, Bangladesh have not left me yet, or the pretour warnings from my colleague, Ashfak Mohamed, were too vivid for me to fully appre- ciate the vivacity of this bustling metropolis.
Mumbai is a city that awakens your every sense. The sights are too numerous to mention, with colours so bright that not even the smartest HD television can convey what the naked eye takes in at every corner.
My personal highlight thus far, though, has been the exquisite architecture that reflects the city’s regal Victorian past which is perfectly interwoven with Mumbai’s modern-day Manhattan skyline.
My experience of this magical city has no doubt been enhanced by meeting up with the familiar face of South African freelance journalist and India tour guide extraordinaire Nick Sadleir, an erstwhile travel companion to the Caribbean, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh, upon my arrival.
Seeing Mumbai through the eyes of Sadleir is like travelling with a Mumbaikar. Already I have dined on a rooftop at the rustic Sea Palace Hotel that overlooks the Arabian Sea to the right, and the majestic Gateway to India and Taj Mahal Hotel to the left.
The aromatic smells of the Bhel puri and Gujarati thaalis also does its best to douse the stench that purveys the city. The charming coastal suburb of Coloba, with all its sidewalk restaurants and cafés, tantalises the taste buds with its large variety of different foods to choose from.
A pilgrimage to Mumbai for a lover of the gentleman’s game could not be complete without visiting Indian cricket’s spiritual home, the Cricket Club of India, situated at the Brabourne Stadium. It is there among the stiff upper lips of Mumbai’s wealthy taking their afternoon naps or sipping on age-old whiskeys in the Porbunder All Rounder room, that the heart of Indian cricket beats.
Every wall that is adorned with a cricket picture tells a story of a thousand words. It is the type of place famed Cricket South Africa statistician and historian Andrew Sampson would one day want his ashes strewn – but that’s only if he was granted an honorary members’ card, such is the elitism of the institution.
The Proteas wrapped up their preparation for their World T20 opener here against England. That is, of course, why I am in Mumbai. I need to watch the Proteas’ training sessions closely to ensure Faf and his men are not leaving a stone unturned in their bid to end their ICC tournament title drought.
It sure is proving a tough assignment to keep fully focused when there are so many more interesting things, like taking a yacht from the Gateway out onto the Arabian Sea, to keep me occupied.
Maybe when I leave the temptations of Mumbai and get down to Nagpur next week I will get my head back into the game.
Until my next diary post, namaste ...