I waved but he didn’t.
The local train was on the harbor line. I was going to VT for some monthly shopping and this was my first local journey since I had arrived in Mumbai a year ago. I looked out of the window at the large expanse of slums. Bad stench and narrow galis marked it unique. The train halted. A slum boy around eight years old was staring at me. I smiled and waved. He gave a shrewd look and sighed. "Fucking Non Mumbaikar", I could hear him say in his mind. He was used to passing trains and knew that even if a million people waved at him, he would still remain a slum dweller, one among the thousands, that made Mumbai, what she was. The train moved on.
4th April 2010
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