Or Mumbai to those who've seen it on screen, visited it and heard about it
Bombay to those who've lived, thrived, survived in it.
Where people pay half their salary to rent a matchbox apartment
Where finding a parking spot is tougher than finding a life partner.
Where from 5am people hang from trains, all going somewhere
Where everyone is always going somewhere. No one knows where.
a battle of burnt fuel and vada pav and fresh gajra and open garbage
a battle of skyscrapers and trees and slums and rail-tracks.
Where the ruthless rains will make you cry for hours to get an auto
Where autos are called Rickshaws. Or Ricks, if you are one of those people.
of long walks around South Bombay on Sunday afternoons
or being stuck in traffic to reach that pub on Friday evenings.
Of family, acquaintances and cherry-picked friends
Of another 1.84 crore strange faces, just in case.
Some days a smelly, noisy, humid battle of survival
Some days, staring into the sea and falling in love all over again.
Where the traffic, rent and the weather are nothing compared to the joy the city gives us,
Because you see, our Bombay is made of Dreams.