Mumbai

Our journey from Mumbai Airport to our hotel on Marine Drive was a wonderful reintroduction to India, and reminder of the sensory overload that Indian cities bring to the world.  


That peculiar smell of somewhere new: heat, spice, diesel, 
The pleasant heat of morning promising more heat to come,
Traffic stretching to infinity through the coach windscreen,
The constant cacophony of horns, scooters weaving between lines
Drivers helmeted, their one or two passengers bare-headed,
Yellow and black taxis jousting their little brothers the auto rickshaws,
Buzzing around and between, busy bees searching the quickest route.
The garish vibrancy of giant hoardings, buildings, glaring neon signs,
The urgency of roadside shops offering all types of goods and services,
The blue tarpaulin-covered slums making way for new reclaimed land.

The dark of a tunnel waves a magic wand; the other side
Emerges swathed in morning mist. New skyscrapers shine beside 
The decaying splendour of art deco mansions, each with a uniformed guard. 

Above slums and luxury alike, hundreds of black kites circle, bank and glide, 
Citizens of this place, always on the hunt for the next meal, the next big thing. 


© Copyright 2025. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved

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