“How do you love Mumbai?” I asked Vinay, native Mumbaikar and walk ing-talking Encyclopaedia Mumbaia. He looked out of our car window, considering my question. Dadar East was bustling all around us. Perhaps it was a tough question to ask anyone. How does one love this mad, madding metropolis? Sometimes it feels as though, like the concept of infinity, it is difficult to gather it in the words known to us. Our car was moving inexorably into the mill country. Old apartments and tenements loomed on to us from both sides, remnants of the most significant era of Mumbai’s history, now struggling for survival. “The Mumbai I knew is dying,” he said finally. “It’s become unlivable and ugly.” We both silently looked at the crowded alleys, crumbling mills, and lines of clothes hanging from every conceivable dusty balcony and window. Grand Central Hotel did look a little incongruous in the midst of this all. “Show me your Mumbai,” I said, feeling a crazy sense of urgency. What could’ve been a more