it could only be irony that could keep my spirits alive having spent the entire week with a terrible body ache, and spending a good 6 and a half hours driving through traffic jams in parle, dharavi, sion, lalbaug and a flat tire to the yacht club for a meeting that lasted all of 15 minutes. i did not even have time to touch the fish fingers before beginning to drive back this time past more traffic jams on the docklands road, dharavi, santacruz, dinidoshi, malad and thakur complex. all this while the only consolation was that with me was an ex-chief of the mmrda with his stories of bureaucracy and corruption, inefficiency and the everyday idiosyncrasies of large organizations and even larger egos. and all in that particularly acerbic air that only a marathi man can have. i know it well from my mothers side of the family. luckily for me and thanks god for that part of my genes my sense of humour was still marginally alive even when I got home.
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