I'm walking down that hustler strip, past the tat-shops, past the boys. I have my 'Don't-screw-with-me-Jimmy' face on. They can feel it - most don't try. Those that do regret it – I’m a dangerous Dog today.

The Mumbai Jimmy's are a far more carnivorous breed; you have to treat them tough. Some of them remember me. I remember them even more. We have a deal now. No more hustling, just a handshake, just old Doggie passing by.

'How's business?'

'Mmmmph, no tourists, the gunmen scared them all away'

I look around me. I don't believe him. The street is swarming with backpackers. There seems to be a never-ending stream of Spanish, German and Japanese youth, European ladies of certain years with their floating, Indian clothes. The baby Japanese seem to be particularly gormless, the Spanish merely loud. All the Germans are still in Leopold’s guzzling beer for breakfast. I dunno how they do that.

A gaggle of British gap-year darlings, pure white in the Mumbai sun. They shine like a bright new golf-ball, bobbing innocently down the road. They just arrived yesterday. I catch a couple buying charas from a Jimmy. I see the sweat through their close cropped haircuts, sense their inevitable disappointment when they finally get back to their backpacker hovel, open that little black packet, roll that excited first joint - then realize they've been smoking incense, spices, black clay; anything but what they thought they had bought.

‘My first day in India,’ they’ll write in their purile blog, ‘wow, the chaos, the excitement, wow, the people, wow, the traffic, wow wow wow.’ They won’t mention that little transaction. Buying dud charas is a rite of passage in Mumbai.

The Taj is boarded up, just two chandeliers still burning inside. It’s a hot tourist attraction, and I’m not talking foreigners. Now visitors have two photos taken; one in front of the barricaded Gateway to India, the other in front of the damaged, dead Taj. It looks empty. It feels kinda strange. Boof! The windows shatter. Crash! The walls explode.

Around the Towers next door there is a wall of white bricks, a guard box with guns, a blather of security and a thing you walk through that beeps. People are being patted down. I can’t help thinking the horse has already bolted. Now it looks like a prison for rich guys. I guess they’ve washed the blood off that shiny marble floor.

I don’t wanna stay there.

But my Mumbai Monday has a silver lining. It's a BOOM-free Mumbai day. Tonight the floor will not be thumping, Dogster's ears will barely bleed. 'Polly Ester', my downstairs disco, is closed. I'm almost sad. What will I complain about now?

So I'm still here in Gordon House, a distant figure to the staff, just that cranky guy in 407. Soon I'll be gone, they'll have my money, another sucker passing by; the Histoire de Grizzle will be forgotten as I face the Gujarat sun, there'll be dancing in the twilight, clanging cymbals in the dawn.

Well, I hope.

"Dancing in the twilight, clanging cymbals in the dawn." Wasn't that just what you were complaining about?! Seems like the perfect marketing pitch for Gordon House.

We are all here cheering you on, Top Dog.

signed, a fan

Thanks for the "Boof" reference. It made my day.

I wondered what it would be like for you to visit your old haunts in Mumbai after the carnage. Thanks for writing about it.

Does the disco power your wireless connection? Give us a growl when you can.

'Now it looks like a prison for rich guys... I don’t wanna stay there.'

Inmate number 1102 reporting for duty. My room at the Taj overlooks the Gateway to India - to my right I'm looking down on the turrets and roof of the old Palace, a flap of blue plastic, leaning piles of new tiles - it's a beautiful room, an upgrade, of course. Everything is exactly the same. Nobody mentions the bleeding elephant in the corner.

The security proceedures are not dissimilar to an airport. Two gates that beep, a huge luggage scanner right outside, driveway in and out blocked off. Let's not fuss about security. I sure don't have a better idea.

Shaving, breakfast coffee at Leopold's. I hadn't noticed the two bullet holes in the mirror inside before; kept thinking about the people sitting at the table just in front. I don't think those patrons are alive today. I went back to test my reactions; maybe Gordon House had tipped my psyche somewhere strange. Same reaction. Kinda creepy. Gormless gap-year tourists, gormlessly trapped in their gap - unaware.

O.K., let's forget terrorism - let's move on. The service, the welcoming face of the Taj remains intact; after three nights in hell it's like coming home. I think I'm a 5 star kinda guy. Let's not even discuss check-out at Gordon House this morning. There was a full and frank exchange of views.

Last night I sat in the street eating chicken something at Bademiya: I was plonked at a table for two. My companion was a huge, very black man dressed in a white tablecloth. He was a minister of the Church of God Only Knows What, kinda severe, friendly but unsmiling. He quizzed me then launched straight into a prayer.

'Lord, protect this lonely Australian. Keep him safe in the streets of Mumbai. Keep him free from those who want to take advantage of him, make his visit a time of great joy. Protect him from flying disasters, keep him safe from the drugs and the whores; make his time in the country run smoothly, make his travels give him what he desires...'

We both held our hands up in prayer: business, Dogster soul saved, he was off. Let's hope the big fella was listening. I think I'm about to need all the help I can get.

You'll be right now Doggie! We won't have to worry about you but don't tempt fate too much just in case.

I wish I had been there to hear the "full and frank exchange of views!" Good going, Dog!!


Signed, a fan

OK. Mr. Google shows me your route. However, even his all encompassing prongs fail to unearth information about the Kavanth Fair. (I assume you miscalculated your dates for visiting Vadodara since you missed the Kite Flying Festival, which may have been cancelled anyway, and are too early for Stampmania 2009.) Can you divulge what festivities await you in Kavanth?

Very vivid...I can see the Taj and your earnest salvation-dispensing dinner companion. Hope there is time to write more before you disappear.

Very evocative - I can her the rumble in the minister's voice, I can feel the careful avoidance of the "bleeding elephant in the room" at the Taj and at Leopold's.

Well, I'm not entirely sure either marija. In fact your question has made me realise that I've quite forgotten - if I ever knew in the first place. Something is happening and I will be there. This is literally all I know.

I can't find Kavanth on a map either. It's to the right of Vadodara. It's nearish to Kali Niketan - but then, I don't know where that is either. The more I write, the more stupid I realise I am.

Which kinda says it all, doesn't it?

Looks like it's Kavant without the h at the end. This may be why you're heading that way:
http://www.indiainfoweb.com/gujarat/tribes/rathwas.html
Don't be too emboldened by the minister's blessing, you still have to do your part... Enjoy your immersion and thanks so much for taking us along on your journey. We'll be here waiting for you to surface.

Maybe you're headed to Kavant? On maplandia.com (terrain map), Kavant is shown East of Vadodara.... and looks like its at the end of the line, so guessing that must be the place lol. Should be very interesting.

Kali Niketan looks like a nicely restored mansion located due North of Kavant - near a bear sanctuary - in Chhota Udepur.

- Sorry Marija, didn't see your post.

A Dog and bears oh my.

Dog

Only just had chance to check in and get your updates. As usual a delight to read...
I had a similar experence of BOOM BOOM BOOM at the Chateau Marmont in LA. I cried from the lack of sleep and they moved us the next morning to a bungalow (hopefully not the one were John Belushi OD'd!!!), but never again spoilt the experience for me (and they had promsed me a quiet room!!)

Keep the updates coming your audience(Of which there are many) await you

Dogster- Do you drink while in India? Not to get too deep, but I find that after having a few strong drinks in Thailand, I get profound thoughts and feelings about being in such an extraordinary place. Instead of getting stupid, I become philosophical and find my self questioning life more deeply than I normally do. I can be looking at the wall, or an ornament in the restroom and feel overwhelmed by what I see, even the most minute of things (I don't do drugs, btw). I really don't have to be in a remote asian country to feel this way, but it is much more intense in Thailand.