Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Existential junction

You're travelling in a local train and you get yourself a window seat by mistake. Pure luck. You're looking out and wondering how come this city hasn't submerged into the sea yet. Too much filth and rubble of despair to hold on to. Why? And for what? Every city, if you notice closely, speaks the same language. But Mumbai makes a distinct noise and emits a stink so nauseating that you doubt your listening skills. Every commuter knows this—subconsciously. Especially at the window seat with their face against the wind. At moments like those, you simply want the journey to continue forever. You don't want your destistation to arrive anytime soon.

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