When I think of Bombay I think of the never ending flyovers and the palm trees.
I think of the million CCDs specked everywhere.
I think of the humidity.
I think of the local trains, vada pav and bhel.
I think of the beaches, the malls and the big buildings.
I think of Rangeela and Essel World.
I think of Gothic Victorian architecture and cobbled streets.
When I think of Bombay I think of bumping into celebrities, great looking people and the film industry.
I think of Candies.
I think of Chowpatty and the Taj.
I think of Chowpatty and the Taj.
I think of wet sand between my toes.
I think of rains.
I think of sitting at Marine drive at 3 AM, with the breeze blowing my deep, poetic thoughts into the air, somewhere far far away on the noisy wings of nonsensical talks and sniggers.
I think of poor sweet scary doo, throwing me her protective and head-shaking smiles.
I think of sitting at Marine drive at 3 AM, with the breeze blowing my deep, poetic thoughts into the air, somewhere far far away on the noisy wings of nonsensical talks and sniggers.
I think of poor sweet scary doo, throwing me her protective and head-shaking smiles.
I think of loud music, a dingy place, raucous laughter, drinks with a crazy bunch of friends.
I think of screaming and dancing without a care in the world.
I think of holding hands and street shopping.
I think of homely, loving parents and a home cooked meal with love.
When I think of Bombay I think of balancing on moss covered rocks and the waves crashing and roaring against them.
I think of the warm gleaming sun in the cloudy sky and the feel of the water spray on my face.
I think of the powerful, cool breeze blowing my hair wild and the feel of the intermittent waves lapping at my feet.
I think of the scores of invisible people running about, making out or just walking and I think of holding the hand of that one person who really mattered that moment.
The boy with the infectious smile who looks like a little child when he talks about something excitedly, with a gleam in his eyes.
When I think of Bombay I think of the train ride and the conversation that flowed.
When I think of Bombay I think of friends.
I think of fun, and joy, and laughter and craziness backed by a dosage of unbelievable awesomeness.
When I think of Bombay, I think of dreams.
When I think of Bombay, I think of love.
When I think of Bombay..
I think of him.
Butterflies and Hurricanes 
Leave a reply to GAGAN JUNEJA : Just 4 Gags Cancel reply