There is a rush in the way things happen here. A mad rush. Purposeful or not, but mad.
There is a spring in the step of people moving around. An urgency in the way fleet of autos clog the roads. An uncanny haste in the way the hawkers make Vada Pao. And all this show goes on, drenched against the background of rain. And, it only makes literary wisdom to do a course like MBA which shares its traits with the way city moves. Time here, they say, is precious.
The wide expanse of Arabian waters at Marine Drive keeps you astonished. The expanse is prevailing yet peaceful. In some tumultuous hours, they can wash away lives with impunity. Yet, it is peaceful to sit by them and watch the waves ebb and flow. Astoundingly scary yet spiritually serene. This city sleeps late into the night and wakes up early. Houses here look dilapidated from outside, but there are luxury cars and sedans parked outside. An umbrella is as necessary a utility as a mobile phone.
An unknown cloak covers this city. From the deepest corners of heart, strings of Delhi hold me. It has a smell of my childhood that pervades through my growing years. Yet each day, I fail to crack this puzzle called Mumbai. It is a strange city-where people find peace in rush.
I am a laidback Delhi guy who loves to sit back as the world rushes by. I take my own time. But when I wake up every morning, I realize one needs to walk brisk or else, like the locals, life runs by.
There is a rush in the way things happen here. A mad rush. Purposeful or not, but mad.
There is a rush in the way things happen here. A mad rush. Purposeful or not, but mad.
