I was about to be drowned, lost, dead in you, Bombay. You were flooded all over. You intruded with muck and your sea. You did it all to make yourself unforgettable for me!
Another 26th destined to a similar disastrous fate - and now I’m being superstitious - this time around it was Bombay. The Bombayite - who always thought of himself as the unshakeable, immune, perhaps immortal, and I wonder whether he stops making the same mistake again - he was introduced to a flood. I was stranded in the town for more than 20 hours - man, how long they were! - and reached home the next day just to discover my house flooded. I felt it mocking to take any pictures of the city’s ruined facade.
And this, for the little girl who asked me whether it is going to be lightning and noisy when the world comes to an end. My answer to this would be a no! The Big Man(or Woman, if you please) up there would do it very calmly without any pompous storming, lightning, deserting melodrama. This, I can say with conviction and firm belief because He(or She) has done His(or Her, hows that?) lot of Big Bangs and has now left it to the filthy bunch left down here, the big-headed-pea-size-brained men who aptly call themselves progressive and ultra modern, and like to’have-it-the-way-they-like-it’ to bring an end to the world.