by austere seeker

To win he needed a Big Idea, and turning to history he distilled one - to cut up into tiny slivers this big pulsating city by the sea, to systematically whittle away its lifeline, its vibrant energy, drain the electric spirit this metro prided itself on; decimate and destroy in much the same way the country had been chopped into three acrimonious blood-strained chunks six decades ago. Divide and fester, turn locals against outsiders, let ambition and sloth run rampage. Periodically stroke fires of greed, fear and red-hot anger with the mantra Outsider, outsider! In the tightly-wrapped slums by the high rises, in the teeming hovels by the high-speed expressways, in the shanties that hung precariously by the sea; in the malls, frosted glass front offices and multiplexes, burn ever-so gently, so that in the smoldering ashes, no questions remain. Who are you, where did you come from, why and when did you get here? Irrelevant questions that the giant city in its mad frenzy had never paused to ponder, questions that so terrified, that in due time the city shrunk into itself.


austere seeker, whose full catalog is here, lives, works, and writes in Mumbai.