If I weren’t from Bombay, I’d probably call it Mumbai. I’d probably hold more value for every time I smelled the colours of the sea. I’d never know how it is to walk out of my house to find all seven colours of the rainbow- and the pot of gold at the end of it. How people tread on hot coals to grab a few coins, only to find some on chariots flying towards it. If I … [Read more...]
Saranya Subramanian writes on Indian Review.