Incoherent paper faces always bursting in and out like Dionysian revellers, pushing and shoving but always accomodating.
That's a Mumbai local train with its thousand rain-tanned stories. Its almost like a crepuscular melange of humanity, with its audible babel and ocassional mirth.
Here, no one minds the menagerie the world sells.
They just go on.
Somewhere to go, somewhere to be.
That's a Mumbai local train with its thousand rain-tanned stories. Its almost like a crepuscular melange of humanity, with its audible babel and ocassional mirth.
Here, no one minds the menagerie the world sells.
They just go on.
Somewhere to go, somewhere to be.
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