Bombay Sunday Mornings

Because I like to sleep my mornings in, and because Sunday mornings aren’t the kind you would opt to spend out of bed, sun in your hair, today was a rare occurrence. The Bambai sun in my hair, the slow December winter, the kala-peela taxi-cab, the growl of an empty stomach: for who has time to cook breakfast on an early Sunday morning?

I am naïve. The city is bustling, and not the usual smell of fish markets and newspaper vendors that take up Bombay Sundays. There is a soapbox race, a cycling race, a Christmas carnival, horseracing day, cars and runners, lovers and loners, dreamers and doers, families and feuds, and even the dose of Bombay Bollywood en route.

At TEDx, where I am headed, there are thousands of people; eager and digging into boiled egg sandwiches, hanging on to words from the remarkable around the world.

One man, with Cyborg vision comes to stage. He was once colour blind, now he can see colour through sound, that is, he hears colour now.  He can sing the colour of a woman’s face, and compose a song of a painting. He can also tell you the dominant city colour by its sounds, and he tells us: Bombay is blue.

This revelation is so true, it is extraordinary.

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1 Comment

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One response to “Bombay Sunday Mornings

  1. anon

    G3…where are rest 29…:-) …blue bombay:-) …giggles…

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