Ye Never Know where The DV Perches

The Capital of All Funky Smells is where the Devil Finch has recently perched.

06:43 am and the city is wide-eyes awake. Humidity is a God here. It rules the sky, strangling the the percentage mark with one hand, and giving the finger with the other. Behold, the birds flying in slow motion under its influence.

"Welcome to the earthly manifestation of exoticism," greeted me a Kali statue at the gate of the hotel.

"Sh3indik Ehnak (what takes you there)?" my grandpa asked me yesterday when I told him that I was flying there tonight. "Your sailor stories is what takes me there," I wanted to tell him, but I shrugged and said, "who doesn't want to see Bombay."