Mumbai Motorcycle Madness...

India is my kohl lined, green eyed, raven haired mistress. She wears the sun with red and gold. Hand mad henna with design of blooms. Feet powdered fresh in earth.

She beckons me to come towards her. I am unsteady but confident in her hands.

She catches me and twirls me around till I get dizzy but I cannot bear to ask her to stop.

This is India wooing me.

While I am half asleep, she sends fire crackers of light. I hear them first. Then when I go look, a burst of green, then gold, then red. That is India getting dressed.

In my bed, she brings herself to my lips. India tastes sweet, spicy and wholesome. I wake up with her smell on my fingers and my tummy full. This is India feeding me.

In the day, she waits in the form of a tiger. Dangerous and powerful. Waiting to be hunted. Waiting to hunt. I can only wait. This is India taunting me.

But at evenings, when it is neither day or night, India waits for me and becomes "Manoj".

I always have to climb down 4 flight of stairs to meet him. And he is always waiting.

"Chale?" He would ask.

I nod and I know it is time for us to go.

I hold on to India tight. He moves fast and reckless. Every now and then, he slows down or changes course. But most of the time, India is an immoveable force and we head straight. I must hold on to India tight. We are going to the market to buy sweets and make memories. I must hold on to India tight.

When India speaks, he says,

"You are looking very nice in the sunlight."

"I am wearing black." I reply.

And then we laugh.

India is wooing me. And I have fallen in love.