The hours wind down with the surety of an end. Over a lonely smoke, I laze into the hazy night, recollecting thoughts on the last 10 days of this vacation in Bombay. Through the jumbles of sights, sounds and people, I'm trying to uncode an answer to a simple question; Why do I love this city so much?
Its home, so would say the observer in you. Sure thing, thats one of the reasons. But at the end of the day, Chennai hasn't been a bad experience for me at all. I've got my brochure of places to go and an entire contingent of cool people to accompany to these places. Yet, somehow, in the stillness of solitude, my thoughts wander westwards to the caressing confines of everything I recognise best. Its warming, yet torturesome. A little thrilling but agonising at the same time.
Maybe its the pot pourri of strange lives. Maybe its just the vibe. Maybe its the serene sights. Maybe its all of everything.
The subtleties hidden beneath plain facts fascinate. Every face has a background, a story only the mind behind the eyes know and a smile that anyone can fake. Underneath a garb of prosperity and desire, lives a populace so intent on living that nothing stops it in its track. Not death itself. The march is as endearing as it is perpetual.
Everyone's out there to look for something better. The growing sizes of pockets might have had something to do with it. Or I think its just the love of life, under these sweetest city lights.
Someday, I'll die here.
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