The peanut vendor
Bombay(sue me!! That's the city I know) is where home is and it is probably one place I miss the most today. I guess you realize the significance of something only when you don't have it for too long. Everything that used to disgust me about the city; the noise, the crowd, the smells, the fast pace reminds me back of the time I spent there. There were days when I\you felt Bombay probably wasn't safe anymore but when you see a 16 year old girl waiting at the bus stop, after a bomb blast, to catch the next bus to college, you are forced to reconsider. Bombay, where millions of people come each day to chase their dreams, has today gained a character very different from the Maratha culture it was born with. To me the Bombay I know is as addictive as love, the waves smashing against the curb at Marine Drive in monsoons, the Indo-Saracenic buildings all over, the hordes of pigeons at KabutarKhaana, the Dabawallahs shoving their huge trays of tiffin-cans into the local train...