After A Death

Once there was a shock that left behind a long, shimmering comet tail. It keeps us inside. It makes the TV pictures snowy. It settles in cold drops on the telephone wires. One can still go slowly on skis in the winter sun through brush where a few leaves hang on. They resemble pages torn from old telephone directories. Names swallowed by the cold. It is still beautiful to hear the heart beat but often the shadow seems more real than the body. The samurai looks insignificant beside his armor of black dragon scales.

Ps - This poem isn't by me. Its by the Nobel Prize for Literature winning poet Tomas Transtomer. Just posted it because its so good.

Mumbai

Its one hell of a city. I just visited it and can assure you can get lost in the city forever without even thinking of trying to get out of it. 

Life in Mumbai is extremely fast. People are always on the run trying to catch local trains if not their shitty vada paos. But the overall environment is quite good. No one cares who'se sitting next to them or what he's wearing. This is quite different from North India where people live to show off what brand they're wearing.

Back to Mumbai. The city has everything up its sleaves to offer. From the best hotels and cafes to the roadside pav bhaji valas. From the best brands in the world to fashion street with the best imitations of these brands at fractional prices. From the biggest temples to the red light district. Everything you might want the city has it.

You can never get bored in the city. The city might get tired of you and grind you out but you never get enough of it. Its the city of dreams. Millions flock to it every year to make money. And the city has loads of it to offer, only a lot of shrewdness is required.