Banished. Abandoned. Forgotten.

On a one-way ticket to the City of Dreams. The village he holds so dear seems like a distant dream from the streets of Mumbai he now calls home; a community of beggars, sex workers, drug dealers, and pimps. Fleeting connections that disintegrate into dust for people either die, or are separated - by the system, the streets, or adults that run said streets.

"So, you think you can go back to the sweet village air?"

Dreams were supposed to be fulfilled in this city that feels like one big jail housing countless jails within; you have the entire city to yourself, but the ceiling that's been put on you is low enough to break your bones as you crouch uncomfortably low to survive in this hellhole that feels like a different planet from the bright lights and high-rises a few neighbourhoods away.

The place is bursting with seemingly infinite prospects, but your social status is more stubborn than the oldest tea stains on your clothes – you can't simply wash it off to rise above your past and rewrite your destiny. You'll keep getting brutally chewed out by this city until there's nothing left of you – just another forgotten soul fading into anonymity in this gargantuan mass of humanity, replaced by another in the blink of an eye.

"One day, everything will be okay in our India".

Your forlorn face of palpable hopelessness learns that this cutthroat beast of a city laughs in the face of flimsy optimism. Your innocence, your heart, and your dreams die without the tiniest ray of hope. The Bombay you fantasised about isn't the Bombay you found – but Bombay found you too, and it won't let go.