Sunday, April 13, 2008

It wasn't a Sack of Potatoes

I had got a permanent job - in a research organisation. I had found a place to stay in Colaba in Mumbai(Bombay at that time). I was happy, lost in thought, and walking home after eating.

My foot hit (actually, more like, touched) a sack protruding from a bus stop. I could hear abuses hurled at me. I walked fast, dared not look back. What could I have done? I knew that people slept on the roads but this experience still troubles me. 'Resident Indian' guilt?

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