Bombay; the city that's filled with stories. I grew up wrapped up in these stories.
As all stories do, Bombay's stories are about it's people that come from different places and inhabit the city, their dreams, our dreams making Bombay the 'City of Dreams'.
The couple at Marine Drive, throwing caution to the wind and grabbing any opportunity they get. They're escaping the confines that bind them in their everyday life to find solace in each other's arms.
The Fisherwoman: The hard working soul that gives bombay locals the odour its famous for. I've never seen the fisherwomen frown. They seem to have everything so together. Talk to her and maybe she'll let you know her secret.
The Hijra at the Signal (Hijra means Transsexual or Transgender): People say that when a Hijra blesses you their blessings will come true.
You will often find them at a signal or a local train in Bombay, asking you for money in exchange for their magic blessings and why not! I mean it's a golden egg isn't it? We all wish we had one. They're often exceptionally nice to me and I do wish people stopped treating them like they had disease.
The Peanut Seller: Hot roasted peanuts in a paper cone, they're what keeps me going. The hands that make them are of the peanut seller.
He may have moved to the big city because he wanted to make a mark in films, he may have moved here to send money to village but he like every one else in the world seems to have given his dreams up to support his family.
He often smokes his beedis and takes his short naps. "It's not an easy life", he once said to me. "But it's the one I've been blessed with."
The Chowpatty Baap Beti Jodi: She whines and squeals and he buys her everything. Fathers dote on their daughters. When I was younger my father would take us to chowpatty and I'd use my well practiced method of hugs, smiles and a lot of 'please' to bring him around. We'd often make an evening of it, starting with pav bhaji, trying out all the dodgy rides and ending it with kulfi ice cream and cotton candy. Such a Bombay thing to do, yessir.
The Owner of Everywhere: He sleeps where he wants to because he deserves it. He's roamed these streets all his life and he's sniffed every man who's walked his way. There's no one he doesn't know and nothing he can not find. This is his home, this is where he met multiple females, the romeo that he is. He struts because he has cause to and if you question his logic you get bitten on the butt.
