‘Welcome back,’ said the gentleman in the turban as I was ushered into Singh’s Hotel, and it was like coming home. What a difference five weeks makes. I had thought that this hotel was in a back street; I viewed ‘going outside’ with some trepidation,; I didn’t recognise a shop when I saw one. This time I had a quick shower and was off into the market, with the light rapidly fading. This time the night market held no terrors, and the one beside Khar station was lovely. There were many fruit and vegetable stalls giving a rich fresh smell to the night air, and little stalls selling rice dishes served up on dried leaves. I still marvel at how so much food can be sold so frequently to so many.
‘What are you looking for?’ asked a man as I sought a clean-looking chai stall, and he proceeded to offer to show me the sights on Mumbai.
‘Thanks, that will be good, in the dark.’ I replied. They must think I’m a tourist.
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