Travel log - 17

They say Jaipur is the Pink City. I know all of Goa is yellow in my mind's eye - the yellow gold of beer, the yellow of fried fish, the sandy yellow of the beaches.

I never thought of Bombay as having any particular colour, though. At best, a murky grey.

But as the plane comes in over the slums of Ghatkopar's hills, I see that my city has turned bright blue. Every second hut has reinforced its roofing with sheets of thick blue plastic. (The blue variety, I'm told, is ubiquitous because it's the cheapest.) I know that at street level, the lanes between those huts are mucky and filthy, that the drainage and sanitation leaves much to be desired.

But right now, from here, in the gray monsoon light, it paints a pretty picture.