On a cold winter afternoon in Central Park, I saw this couple getting their wedding pictures clicked.
The scene was threateningly picture perfect. The kind that can make anyone believe in fairy tales. And stardust. And unicorns. And ponies jumping over shimmering rainbows etc.
But the hard-boiled realist in me just sat there, counting in my head, the number of egg-whites it would take to make a giant fluffy omelette the size of her dress.
There were two Mumbais yesterday.
The one soaked to its bone.
And the one that somehow stayed afloat.
The one stranded on an empty stomach.
And the one offering shelter and free food.
The one cursing the BMC.
And the one lauding it.
The one with the sarcastic tweets.
And the one with the helpful forwards.
The one that came to work today.
And the one that is working from home.
The one that believes that nature can pummel us all it wants, our survival algorithm always wins.
And the one sick of celebrating its own spirit.
Neither will stop telling its stories of #MumbaiFloods2017 for months.
Until they're replaced by the stories of #MumbaiFloods2018