In Mumbai even the raindrops have mega dreams. They imagine that they hold a bucket full of water. And they clog everything. Three years in a row Mumbai has been flooded, this year it seems like an usual chore to be done with.
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Coffee shops have an unusual shimmer to them. The windows mist up, the humid air forms a layer of dreams on the surface and like tear drops float downwards. Hope rests, in anticipation of a hot cup of what pretends to be coffee.
And sometime later empty plates tell no lies. Crumbs betray.
Week begins with the right attitude. Rains be damned.
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