What goes up must come down, and whatever goes down has to come up again. Continue reading →
My spot of green, my labour of love.
What a little TLC and sweet talk can do in a harsh (for plants) city like Bombay.
Simple pleasures make me smile proudly.
A living, breathing, organism.
Centuries old. Rooted in history.
Mute witness to the cyclicality of civilization.
And the linearity of time
Solitary. Proud. Strong.
Incompatible with today.
A hark back to the times that were.
Before the city lost out to progress and modernity.
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