Oh, I cycled today I finally did! A month and a half after the accident. The lady's in not-so-god a shape with the brakes in an difficult-to-reach position, a set of broken quick brakes, bruised skin on the front, and general whirring noises which I have no idea of the origins. But its fixed enough to drag me back onto the roads and that's that.
0000AM: Way back from my cousin's, cycling across the vast emptiness to my left, where lie the jungles that make up fringes of Sanjay Gandhi National park. I spot something shining floating mid-air. Clsoer, and it turns out to be an outfit. There's a woman inside that outfit. The woman multiplies into 5 women, queuing up on the pavement, as if it were an exhibition. They're prostitutes, stupid! Lots of glitter and jewelery and drag outfits. As I approach closer, a tall one picks up a large stone and hurls across the road, at an obese guy whom I hadn't noticed earlier. "साले भडवे"...and on she goes with her street vocab, which I fail to register. The stone misses the guy and hits a steel grille and it clatters loudly. That guy must be her pimp, or one of her deals one wrong, he escapes.
Every rotation of my wheel takes me closer to the amusing line-up of skin for sale. "Window shopping, EVERYONE!" as Utahraptor would say. First one's in glittering purple (the tall one); next in glittering red; next in glittering blue sphagetti top and a green mini; next comes a tasteful non-glittering cream that makes her breasts stand out well; the last one's in glittering blue. One common feature among them is really shit make-up that makes them look like crossdressers; or maybe they are - I can't be too sure. They seem timid; maybe I would make conversation with them on some lonely night when my bicycle breaks down and one of them turns out to be a fixer (by day). I'll surely reward her with cashewnuts and also make friends with her pimp. Wishful thinking, ah.
Mumbai does come alive at night, a bit too early.
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