Inside the city of Bombay lived a man,
a mere bystander.He felt the city was too cramped up for him, for how could he stand out, how could he be special amongst so many people who live and die without doing a damn thing? Those who lack imagination and live their whole life for nothing. How could he ever accomplish greatness within the city of the greats?
It's true, normal people accomplish nothing. But special people do exist; he’s just not one of them. But is it wrong to not be special? Isn’t it okay, to not be great and instead just cherish the fact of being born in this city? Yes, Bombay gets its colour from its people by being vintage, stuck in time, the grandeur of its vastness and leaving behind a piece of history in every corner of the city. After all we’re all just mere bystanders in this city!
