Marine Drive

 Every year, I take the local train, grab a vadapav, and let the ocean at Marine Drive remind me of how small I am. It’s a ritual, a fleeting moment where the city's chaos hums around me, yet I feel at peace. Coming from a tier-two city, growing up in the quiet hum of middle-class reality, I have always fantasized the big city, the lights, the towering buildings, the endless crowds. While people debate over mountains or beaches, I have always rooted for cityscapes. Who wouldn’t love a big window or even a small one, sitting by it with a cup of coffee, a cat curled up in their lap, just watching the lights flicker and people rush by?

When I shared this dream with a friend from Noida, he simply said, "It’s not always what you think." And suddenly, it hit me, perspectives. They shift; they differ.

The things I romanticize might seem trivial or exhausting to someone else. But that doesn’t mean they’re wrong. People prioritize different things, and that’s okay. Because sometimes, these lights can be blinding, people can be suffocating, and the towering buildings can feel like cages. Yet, for someone like me, they still hold the promise of something more.


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