Pushing and shoving my way up the stairs of the Kurla station foot bridge during the morning rush hour, I envy the bum sitting on the asbestos roof of the platform, watching the crazy herd of money hungry animals on their way to earn their daily bread. Another day, another dollar they say. But I envy the bum. He's watching us, with a mocking smile on his face with the morning sun warming his bare back and the rushing trains cooling it. I know where my next meal will come from, and I have to make sure it keeps coming. Does he know about his? He might have to beg or borrow or steal, I don't think it really plagues his mind too much. I don't think he has a choice. It must be nice to not have alternatives sometimes, or to have your choice made for you. I envy the bum.
Brilliant!
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