Memories of Mumbai - Pundole’s Auction Internship

Memories of Mumbai

On the flight into Mumbai, the man sitting beside me casually asked my reasoning for

traveling to India. He was shocked when I told him I was going to be working in Mumbai and

incredulously responded “Why?”. This question was repeated with almost every person I met

during my summer, with various levels of surprise. Almost no one could believe that I, a rather

obviously white American, would come to live and work in their country without any prior

attachments–or visits–to India.

I grappled with this question myself: what was I doing there? This is the same question

anyone who goes abroad must ask, regardless of the duration of their stay. While I wanted the

work experience of an internship at Pundole’s, which lived up to all my expectations and more, I

realized the greater purpose of my travel was to learn, about other cultures and other people.

I learned about my boss, Mallika, the greatest support I had, and what it means to be

successful in personal and professional life. I learned about the Parisis, a small ethnoreligious

community of Zoroastrians in India that made up about half my office, and the difficulties of

being such a visible minority during the rise of Hindutva.

And I learned about Victoria, the other intern from Penn. Despite living and studying on

the same campus, we had never and likely would have never interacted without this experience.

During our time together in Mumbai, we explored the city from Bandra to Colaba and all

around the Queen’s Necklace. After work, we might visit an art gallery highly recommended by

our coworkers, then it was off to our (rather late for American standards) dinner. We split our

evening meals evenly between the elaborate fine-dining experiences inspired by around the

world and the comfort of our accommodation’s restaurant where our waiters knew our names

and preferences.

Overall, Mumbai was a mix between the cosmopolitan and intimate, the grande and

minute, full of chaotic streets and helpful locals. Even though I’ve never been somewhere so

different from home, I was comfortable. I found this not because my room had AC (although that

was a plus), but due to the overwhelming sense of humanity that gets overlooked when talking

about one of the largest and most populated cities in the world. My best example is this: a taxi

ride.

Although Mumbai is known for its paradoxically hectic traffic, taxi drivers are a talented

group, able to weave through chaos like a breeze. On my way home from work, I was in a small

fender bender, through no fault of my taximan, and reactivated an old head injury. After this, I

had to head straight to the hospital. All I had to do was call my boss, whom I had just bid

goodbye to as she was leaving the city that night, and she was there for me, telling me exactly

where to go and who to talk to. When all was said and done with only a mild concussion, she

invited me back to her house to rest, saying the comfort of a home would be better than an

empty hotel room. She was right.