A few days ago, on my way back to the suburbs from South Mumbai, I witnessed the worst pollution I’ve seen in India. Just below the Bandra flyover some work had shrouded the area in a dense, chemical fog. Shadowy people emerged ghost-like, cars were swallowed whole and the moment was as beautiful as it was haunting.
I asked my driver to let me out. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, all I had was my iphone and not much in the way of skill — but there was something about that scene I wanted to capture and so I sat on a ledge and waited.
The fumes were oppressive and the heat stifling; but both my mind and body were alert and filled with the hope of witnessing and capturing some kind of a transcendent moment. That moment never came. Or if it did,