7am: I feel pretty hellish myself. Not even the thought of being on Kingfisher for the first time snaps me out of my settled gloom.
10am: Bombay. I'm fairly certain the cab at the airport has a rigged meter. Who has such snazzy new seats and such a cruddy cover for the meter?
11am: I'm right. I was rooked but taking up the issue means going out again to a cop shop and I'm not feeling good enough.
11:15am: Wadala. With gorgeous views of the refinery. (Which refinery? I never found out in the three days I was there.) And an unexpectedly large park downstairs. I nap. In between making plans for the following day with Kuntal, and reading.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of sleep and food, a walk. The walk is gorgeous, the light is magic and I didn't take my camera with me. The small blue flowers which you will see in another post looked nearly bleached white and I remember that they're the same ones we used to bleach with Sulfur Dioxide.
11pm: None of the phone calls I've made home reassure me. Everyone sounds wretched. Yet I sleep the sleep of the good. The refineries belch fire all night long.