A Monginis Cake Shop flex hangs above a hardware and electronics store and a man in front of it speaks loudly into his phone, trying to explain this his location, slapping the other hand on his forehead.
Another man, this one on a scooter going slower than a public transport bus has his helmet resting in the front between his feet instead of on his head. (Is this blatant disregard for life or staggering confidence about it?)
An old Nauvari-clad woman bearing a big vermillion stain on her forehead innocently spits her paan on a Clean Mumbai, Green Mumbai graffiti.
I get up to go stand at the front door and someone else takes my seat.
They will see a skinny girl typing furiously into her phone this very poem.