A friend once described Bombay as being every journey, every destination. It has certainly been mine. It spoils you for every other place in this country. It is also home.

But as much as I love this city, sometimes it also leaves me feeling helpless and trapped.

The continuous fencing along the Western Railway tracks makes me claustrophobic. It makes me want to get off the train as soon as possible.

I want to slap folks who throw themselves into moving trains and buses, displaying absolute disrespect for their fellow commuters. Things would just be so much simpler if we all lined up in a queue while boarding a bus or a train.

I want to beat up folks who use the roads as their own private dustbin. More often than not, it is the so-called educated, well-to-do at fault. It’s almost as if money and education gives them the leeway to nonchalantly throw trash outside their windows and/or pave the streets of this city with their saliva.

I feel a sense of anger when I see commuters ferry themselves to work in the BEST buses and/or local trains, packed like sardines in a tin.

I feel an even greater anger when I see the resigned look on most faces around me.


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