Surat in Gujjuland

Surat in Gujjuland

The dawn was quiet, the sun slowly rose in the hazy sky. With nothing to do so early in the morning, I picked up my crochet work to enjoy some moments of peace before Mani woke up. But that was not to be. Soon, the silence was broken by loud playing of Babuji zara dheere chalo, Jawan jaan-e-man, Nachch Punjaban etc., accompanied by drum beats. I ignored it for about half an hour before I got up to see what the ruckus was about. Down in the swimming pool were a few upright human torsos, mostly with bellies tending to pot, the arms of some moving with the rhythm and of most, out of it. Slowly I adjusted my eyes to the sun rays and saw two figures on the floor in front of the pool, demonstrating some kind of energetic dancercise. I was impressed, wondering at the healthy intentions and determination of the group. This continued for more than an hour - them exercising in the water and I sitting on my bed, continuously mumbling about their commitment. What an impressive way to start your Sunday morning!

When we went in for breakfast later, the place was so crowded there was half an hour of wait. Inside was a small pond of people jostling for all you can eat poori subzi, idli sambar, sugary cold coffee, fruit, cakes drowned in buttercream icing and masala chai. The seating hostess explained, “Madam, weekends are very busy, most members come to stay the two nights. After the Sunday exercise, they get hungry.” So, most of these food-gobbling people were the ones exercising earlier. So much for healthy exercise!   

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It was my first visit to Surat last weekend where our objective was to attend an event in this city of diamonds but about a different kind of stone management – Urolithicon, a conference on stones in the urinary system. (No, neither of us is a doctor.) My father suffered from recurring stones in his kidneys, ureters and bladders and even had two surgeries to take them out. I often saw him pushing down his gullet copious amounts of water of boiled kulthi dal (horse gram), corn hair or barley to make it easier to flush the tiny stones. Now I knew that the condition has a name, Urolithiasis.

What surprised me was the information that stones in the urinary system are not a modern infliction. They had been found in the urinary systems of Egyptian mummies. The three oldest elective surgical procedures in civilization included circumcision, trepanation and cutting for the stone. Stones were mentioned as early as in the Sushruta Samhita (6^th century BC) by our very own Sushrut, in the Hippocratic Corpus by Hippocrates (5^th century BC) and De Medicina by Cornelius Celsus (Ist century AD).

Dr Harpreet Singh, Secretary of the Urolithiasis section of USI, took pity on my ignorance and explained that urologists are surgeons who deal with problems in the urino-genital system of men and urinary issues among women while nephrologists are non-surgeon kidney doctors.

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Braving the outside temperature, we decided to visit the Dumas beach, a huge patch of muddy stretch before the Arabian sea starts. I was told water had receded more than half a kilometer in the last decade. Earlier, the beach had a respectable spread. The government has launched mega projects for its much-needed beautification. Small groups of visitors were already there at 10.30 a.m. and more were trickling in. The stall and cart owners had started to display their wares. I could see everything from peanuts, churan golis (small tangy balls of spicy digestive powder), bottles of iced water, super sugary artificial drinks to Maggi and fried snacks, and cheap plastic toys being sold. Decorated camels rested on their haunches, their owners cajoling people to take a ride. But the muggy weather dampened our enthusiasm pretty soon and we rushed back to the cool hotel room.

On the way I saw construction going on everywhere. The noise of the heavy earth-moving machines and the sight of labourers carrying pans of bricks and mortar on the mix of wet patches and dry heaps of soil dotted the scene on the dusty land on which grew hundreds of kikar (gum Arabic) trees.

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Trying to make the most of my perhaps lone visit to the city in this lifetime, I ventured out in the afternoon to look around. My first visit was to the Swaminarayan temple. Processions led by half a dozen saffron-clad saints were coming towards it. Any sense of devotion I had, evaporated when I was sucked among the pushing crowds inside the temple. It looked like there was a selfie-festival going on. Cell phones raised in their hands, older women in bright shiny saris and younger ones in tight western clothes, boys and men in front of individual temple units of various gods, were taking photographs or getting photographed. Saying hello to the gods was secondary to them.

It seemed every single resident of Surat was outside in the hot afternoon. There were people, people, everywhere as if someone had turned the houses inside out and emptied them of all humans who now wandered around the city.

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What did my sense of observation pick? Is there a hairstyle regulation for women in Surat? Everyone had tied their hair either in scraggy ponytails or wound in a tight bun on the top of the back of the head. No short hair, no flowy open hair, no tresses!  

Besides, are the people of Surat blessed with tough skulls and bones or is the medical care there miraculous? Only as few as one out of ten scooter and motorcycle riders was wearing a helmet.

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My trip to the market to get the flavour of the city, did not bear any fruit. It was a Sunday and all markets including textile malls were closed. Only some shops were open in the New Bombay market where shiny synthetic saris wrapped around mannequins were on display. Shopkeepers sat outside on stools cajoling visitors to come inside and have a look at the saris available. I am not sure if the garments being sold in this textile capital of India are any cheaper than what you get in your city.

After the short weekend, it was time to pack our bags for the early morning hopping flight back home. For the last time I washed my hands with salty water, dried them with the towel which tasted of salt, locked the room and we went down to check out. Surat is so near the Gulf of Khambat that sea water is said to have seeped into the groundwater.

From the plane Surat looks a city of skyscrapers like Mumbai but without the slums of the latter.

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What is noteworthy is that Surat was considered the dirtiest city in the country when plague broke out here in 1994. The disease connected with medieval times claimed many lives and created panic, forcing half of the population to flee the city. But the cleanliness and sanitation drive kicked off by Municipal Corporation Commissioner Suryadevara Ramachandra Rao, and continued thereafter, has the city now sharing the top spot with Indore in the All-India Clean City rankings as announced in the beginning of this year. 

                                                Suratis love these snacks                                                                                                                                 - Anupama S Mani