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...every story worth telling is written in the color of the pulse. Fitoor magazine's second edition, coming soon.

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Photos and artwork that capture the imagination and reality of Mumbai!

To the city of restless delight

Ask any Mumbaikar, and you’ll hear the same truth: Bombay teaches you to move fast, and it teaches you to slow down — often at the very same time.

At forty-nine, when I think of Bombay, I don’t think of its chaos. I think of moments—the unexpected hand that steadied me, the stranger who shared an umbrella, the commuter who made a joke just when the day felt too heavy.The city never promised comfort. It only promised truth. It never pretended to be gentle. It simply kept showing up. And somewhere along the way, without realising it, I started showing up too.

The constant honking, and the traffic that never seemed to take a break were too much at first. But slowly, everything changed. I made new friends, the kind who made this new life feel lighter and fun. We shared late night talks , endless cup noodles, and stories about home. People around me started feeling familiar, and Mumbai quietly turned into my second home.

Starting my day with Bun Maska and ending with Bhaat-Mangsho (staple Bengali dish, rice and chicken) — now I am proudly a soul with two cities.

Bombay is a generous city, adjusting its building blocks ever so often to allow people 1x1 feet of space to dream. The best part is that it doesn't ask for anything in return. It only warns me once: "learn to tap your feet to the rythm of my roads, sinkholes open here often."

I think I like experiencing Mumbai in simple metric terms. It comes with excitement and exactitude, it comes with definition. Nothing is ever too far or too close, never too heavy or too light, never too cold or too hot. It's metric, it's rhythmic. ये है मुंबई का माप.

Perhaps home is not so singular; not so definitive that one must clutch, white- knuckled, at it as it flies away. Perhaps I can put it down gently, without shaking and upending, and pick it back up when I want, wherever I want.

For decades, progress has been measured in speed, automation, and connectivity. Screens became smaller, faster, and more powerful. Life moved online.

At 5.30 am in October, Mumbai feels like it’s exhaling; It's drowned in a pink hour.

If a city could feel like a long, comforting hug, it would be Bombay. This isn't just a place where I reside; it is the fabric of my earliest memories, the backdrop to every dream I’ve chased, and the unwavering home I carry in my heart.

The past and the present, the good and the bad, the rags and the riches—this is the story of Bombay, of how it is remembered in memory.

July 28, 2005: A city drowned as the skies opened like never before. We were a bunch of students, eager and restless, standing at the threshold of our professional lives. Less than a month in an institute, we had joined with wide-eyed enthusiasm – the JR batch of 2005 at Xavier Institute of Communications, Mumbai. And that evening, as tragic as it eventually was for the city, gave us the unexpected chance to truly know one another.