There is a whiff speaking to me in tones of melancholy and shades of blee. I look to the sky to find an explanation to this beautiful paradox before my eyes, but the crimson sky cries blue to me.
I wonder whether I am in an alternate reality, a paradoxical world but I find myself wandering in the magic the sky emits through a thousand colours this sunset.
The question almost fades from my mind, almost but I find my answer soon enough before it dies.
Paradoxes are the new reality. We choose to say something and do otherwise. We build a dream and live otherwise. We diverge from the lines we draw.
What is an alternate reality is that what does not fall into alignment of the structures of this rigid world, and it is alternate because it is rare, absurd and unusual.
-WANDERER // N o n C o n f o r m i t y
As much as it is called the city of dreams, I like to think of it as the city of reality. It is in this city, the minute you step foot outside your periphery, you realise the mendacity the world holds, and that dreams are not always meant to come true.
It is here that the one who sleeps on the streets is equal of a beggar as the one who sleeps in a glass mansion, the only difference, is that one lacks money and the other, peace.
It is here that you realise what competition really is and that survival is not just managing to make a living, but it is living itself.
Bombay, ( I hate calling it Mumbai ) has been a place of growth but it has also been a reality check to dreamers.
Its a place that throws the truth in your face that life is a battle and there is no truce, you either win or you lose.
It gives you the feeling of home, but it makes you earn the love.
WANDERER // B o m b a y