London. Morning. Light. Rain.
London is a collage - patched and stitched with pallets of colours, shreds of cultures and bits of languages. And a typical London double decker bus is the mirror of it. Following Taniya's transfer, I skipped driving to the office. This was mainly to save money from exorbitant parking fees and partly to save myself from city traffic. But if you always fancy for a closer-to-heart reason, then it is just because I get two hours to read - solid, without any distraction. But sometimes you can’t help cheating with reason and listen to heart, you can’t help but listen, watch and feel all the people - the passengers - they embark the bus, search for their seats, and find ways to kill the journey time. Tell you what, it is something I always cherish for, just like the thousands of moments formed and dissipated while I used to travel in Delhi Metro, and how some of those moments were powerful enough to be fossilised! The tiny bus stop of Beulah Spa reminds me of me. Mostly. It remains