Like other landmark buildings in Mumbai, Nehru Center has its own taxi stand. But the taxis would operate as the drivers would prefer. One has to find a willing driver who wishes to go in the direction you want. One has to be patient to succeed. I was on my way to the Four Seasons Hotel which was the landmark for my nephew's building. I had never seen the hotel from the road, so kept on silently look from inside the vehicle. It was close by, the taxi stopped. I did recognize my nephew's residence building. I entered the gate. Multi-residence tall towers in Mumbai maintain their own security. I had to write my name and someone had to take permission before I am let in. After the protocol, I reached the top floor which was my nephew's residence. After doing various Management degrees he works for a large Corporation in a senior position. The work demands him to travel a lot. His wife is employed by the Government. Their children are in colleges abroad. My nephew has a resident cook and another person to do house work. The latter opened the door and greeted me. He escorted me to an ante-area where my uncle was sitting. He is the second of my father's three brothers. He was a popular college professor, well liked for his eloquence and teaching style. Besides the son he has a daughter, who lives in another part of the town. She is single and works in another Corporation in a senior position. My uncle has built a house in Bhubaneswar, but spends most of his time in Mumbai, where my aunt could get better medical help. Independent living in old age is a new phenomenon in India. In the earlier days, all lived together in a large family setting and the younger people cared for the old. In the new technological world the families are decentralized, the older people have to find their own support system. Many live with their children in a mutual adjustment, but space and resources may not always be available. New retirement and elderly homes are popping up with profitable business model like in the west. It is a new cultural direction for India. I like my uncle and he likes me. Though he never taught me directly, he helped me during my school years. He was teaching in the college when I attended the college. He escorted me to many family events when I was a kid. Some of his friends were a part of the progressive group that my father was leading. I had many "default" uncles because of him. My aunt joined in. She had problem with her spinal cord and was getting into pain if she sat down for longer period. My previous visit about three weeks ago had caused her bone pain because of inadvertent prolonged sitting. Rare visitors like me could be interesting, but health is more important. I wanted to make sure that I did not prolong my stay. My aunt is a jolly person insulated from the daily happenings in the world. Women are happy when the children are well placed. She had reason to be happy and feel secure to herself. I suggested to her if she would consider brief outing to the National Center for the Performing Arts, a few miles away. She said she might not sit for more than thirty minutes. I had no advanced tickets. I did not pursue further.
We had tea together and I had some snacks. Feeding a visitor is a part of Indian house visit. My nephew was on tour. His wife was taking care of their daughter who had been admitted in a hospital in Delhi. The son had left on a business trip to Singapore. Uncle said that they would have to shift to his daughter' house in the night after my nephew showed up. They had to get busy packing. I begged leave of them. I wished well to the cook and the house worker. I decided to visit my uncle in my niece's house the next day.
After getting to the ground I asked the guards for the directions to NCPA. A woman told me that I should take a taxi to Mahalaxmi and another taxi to NCPA. I did not get the logic. Taxis do get crowded in the evenings and hence one has to share a ride. She pushed me to an incoming three-wheeler and I was on my way. Share-a-ride is a mini-bus. The fair is cheap, the driver makes more money. The transportation is the key, not the comfort.
I did as was advised. Reaching Mahalaxmi I had to maneuver to go in the right direction. The Center was right on the sea on the far corner of the city. The taxi dropped me off at the gate and I walked inside. Apparently there were several different concert houses in the complex. I was going to the Experimental Theater, the smallest one seating three hundred people.
The event was promoted as a fusion dance presenting oceanic folk tales. I was attracted noticing the mention of Odissi in the program. I reached late at the gate. A man and a woman were standing outside, a board said "show sold out." There was a woman inside the glass door with several tickets displayed on the desk. The man outside told me that he normally visits and succeeds in getting entry when a ticket holder might not show up. He said the late entry was "free" as a courtesy of the guard.
The person was talking to the guards as though he knew them well. The woman said that she should have the privilege of getting in since she was an Indian dance teacher traveling from Europe. After thinking for a while I thought to hang out a bit longer to understand the process. The man was younger to me and the woman was the youngest. Every place has its own ropes and I must learn the local ropes. The man told me that all the final hundred tickets were bought by Mrs. Ambani, the wife of a rich man in Mumbai. They inherited a fortune made by a man who started life in a characteristic humble way. Business methods can strike gold if you tap right. He did. Their money controlled the elections and here the money was controlling theater admission. The man said it was a bulk reservation and we had a good chance of entry.
I waited. New people were showing up and gradually all tickets disappeared. I was then in my joking mood with a mini drama going outside the theater. The man said that there was still a chance because some would leave early because they might not like the performance. Indeed a man in a white pant suit walked out. He looked rich with stylish taste. He went to a car, the car moved and returned. I saw him speaking on the phone. After twenty minutes or so, he walked up the steps and reentered the hall.
Our little hope was dashed. I thought about my return journey. The man said never to give up "hope." He advised to wait till the intermission.
