At the end of June, as Bombay anxiously scanned the skies for evidence of the monsoons, the metropolis was drenched by a cloudburst of self-righteous indignation. Evidently irked by a survey by the US-based Reader's Digest on urban etiquette that placed Bombay at the very bottom of a 36-city stack, the city's bold and beautiful mounted an enthusiastic defence of the metropolis.
"You realise this is only on the surface and people here have a heart," a prominent advertising-filmmaker named Prahlad Kakkar pronounced. His exasperation was echoed by actor Makarand Deshpande, who told journalists, "Mumbai has heart and soul, and those who think otherwise lack it."
The battle was even taken global by my friend Suketu Mehta. In an op-ed in The Wall Street Journal, he quoted a lyrical, locomotive allegory from his wonderful book, Maximum City:
If you are late for work in Mumbai and reach the station just as the train is leaving the platform, don't despair. You can run up to the packed compartments and find many hands unfolding like petals to pull you on board … They know that your boss might yell at you or cut your pay if you miss this train … Come on board, they say. We'll adjust.