Coconut Cruncher

27 July 2014 Image not owned by me Santa Cruz station. I passed by this station on a fast train, and recognized it even in the small flashes on train. The station pretty big, connected by pink skywalks and bridges. Baby pink. It's been 3 years since I interned here, and I don't know how many more it will take for them to change the colour. The colour is probably not as horrid as I see it. The horrid part must be the time I associate the color with. Agla station, 'saanta crooze' - said the machine voice. My friend would call it santra juice (orange juice). After an eyesore like that, the next stop Bandra is an absolute pleasure. White walls, arched platforms and passages, and a wooden British station which has withstood time. Outside the stations yellow lights twinkle - crowds eat, laugh and fight. Stories unravel. The pavement is more cobbled and a bit cleaner. This is clearly one of my favourite and most charming spots, but I've heard that south Bombay beats ...

August '14 She looked at me now and again. I didnt know she was goan. She was checking on me see if I was okay. She was probably well over 60, thin, dark toned with deep set eyes. She never saw a girl of my age travelling in a long distance train alone.She had never travelled out of goa herself. Her son had taken her to visit his work in Mumbai. She had lost all her teeth but one. There was one long tooth in her lower mandible. When I asked her a question in Konkani she wore a look of surprise. Most of the goans I've met outside goa wear that look. I guess I don't look goan enough. She beamed, and told me about her journey, and her son. "Bombay is not for me. It's so crowded, so dirty. Still people go there. I got sick there." Yet she went. And now she will love goa more. We passed the open fields and crossed broad clean rivers with coconut palms on both sides. We knew we've touched down goan soil. She smiled at me - "I think we've reached....