BOMBAY isn't called Maximum City for nothing. Think of any aspect of city living - people, places, traffic, congestion - multiply it exponentially, multiply it again, add oppressive heat and stultifying humidity, and you might come close to an approximation of what Bombay is like at this time of year.
Small wonder, then, that people flock to the water's edge - to find space to breathe air that isn't superheated by all that glass, concrete, asphalt, and the sheer presence of its 21.67-million souls. Many of them come to Marine Drive at all hours, but especially as the sun starts to dip into Back Bay. If you have reason to be there at 2am - as we were, on our way to the airport to catch a flight - you will still see some of them. Who knows if they have been there since the sky looked like this:
This man did nothing else but sit and stare at the sea for many minutes. He didn't look at his phone. He spoke to no-one and no-one spoke to him. He just sat and stared and breathed.
Not everyone preferred to be in their own desert island of a world. Couples coupled inconspicuously in the midst of other singletons:
Others used the time to meet friends. Was that a happy accident, or did they plan to see each other? "Marine Drive, 5pm. Don't be late.":
Behind the singletons, couples and groups the city went about its busy business as usual. Of course it did. Maximum City doesn't stop because you decide to sit and stare at the sea:
Look up, and you will see a sight familiar to many parts of India - a sky festooned with black kites. They seem to hang rather than fly, and often swoop almost to within touching distance:
They also float over the water. What a view they must have from up there:
And, you have to wonder, what do they think of humans confined to the solidity of the earth:
“More dreams are realised and extinguished in Bombay than any other place in India.”
Gregory David Roberts, author of Shantaram.
© 2026 Telford Vice. Words and photographs.