The Best Part of Our Trip to Chowpatty Beach

We didn’t want to swim in the water anyway.

Mumbai was not as chaotic as I had feared.

The Dharavi slums were much more depressing than depicted in Slumdog Millionaire.

We were bummed that we didn’t get to Dhobi Ghat in time to see what is supposedly the largest outdoor laundry in the world.

Later that same night we would go to Victoria Terminus (now renamed Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus) and stroll around what seemed to us the most colonial area of the city.

(Have you noticed that when visiting a former colony too often the colonial section of town is seen as the pretty part?)

We were an eclectic group of four: an American (I’m going to go ahead and put myself first on the list instead of last this time), a Chinese, a Mexican, and a German.

The German led the way with his copy of Lonely Planet. This was back in the day before everyone had a smartphone.

What is a bunch of youngsters supposed to do after a day of witnessing soul-crushing poverty that is a deliberate result of men who could do better but decide to exploit the poor? Followed by the disappointment of missing the opportunity to see a massive group of women, perhaps nearly none of whom is too much further up the socioeconomic ladder than those who live in Dharavi, doing work that is daily and meaningful?

We weren’t even punctual enough to enjoy a view of the sunset at Chowpatty Beach.

It was winter, but it felt like summer.

The four of us went and got ice cream.

Kulfi to be precise. It is not ice cream. It is, in my humble opinion, superior.

This might have been the beginning of my love affair with all things pistachio. Perfect middle to my time in Mumbai that would end a bit dubitably.

It’s been a decade since my tongue first became acquainted with this heavenly dessert at a hole-in-the-wall place on the road next to Chowpatty Beach, but I believe it was New Kulfi Centre.

You might consider paying a visit if you’re in town.

Dash Ip has a thing for green.

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