Bandstand Mumbai, India

Waves in tones of gray and brown collide with a rocky shoreline, which, in turn, collides with life in the city. This is a place of great contrasts, yet each person hides their own story in their heavy eyes and fleeting laughter. Industrial clatter assaults from behind, while the sea and its power meet you head on. Lovers, friends, and families each find their own space to laugh, chat, or gaze into the water. One low caste family has made their way to a pool in the rocky shorline where the women wash their yellow and green sarees in the warm tide pool. They lift the fabric to dry it, and it flutters against the gray horizon majestically in triumph against the dull monsoon sky. Their son bathes in the same pool. Close by a Sikh family gathers around the edge of the rocks while the father holds them close under his arm and watches the sky and sea with a humble yet strong posture, head down, shoulders back . A youthful couple sit on their own rock as the water circles around them. They are an island, and appreciate the seclusion their rock offers.

The air is moist and filters thoroughly through the body bringing in all the smells of the sea, the city , and the local cuisine being sold just a few feet away on the street. Dotted along the street, vendors sell fresh corn, pani puri, and sodas. The rubbish of these clutter the rocks where the child bathes. Cars saunter by, just like the people who are enjoying their day at the sea-side. Buildings are going up and coming down as the city meets the slum, and the slum meets the edge of the continent.

Down the coast, high-rise apartments and buildings are affixed in the skyline; to the North, tents, blue plastic tarps and sticks comprise homes for much of the local population. As four children race each other out of the slum area with huge smiles and empty pockets, the sun breaks through the clouds and sheds light on the previously muted colors of their ragged clothing. Three race past me happily; the oldest stops when her gaze catches mine. Her sad eyes widen and brighten in less than an instant. Her companions return to her side loyally. I take their photograph and show them their image on my small digital screen. They are very pleased with themselves and their surprise encounter. They laugh and mock one-another's silly and strange photo expression. They had not expected this today. I snap another photo of the tattered young girl and the older boy. They are holding hands warmly, and are excited about the adventure they have had together. I reach into my bag for a small treasure for the children, a few rupee coins for each. They thank me graciously with tired yet young eyes, shake and kiss my hand and seemingly vanish before my eyes as a vapor might in the warm air.

The first raindrops of the day hit the rocks in slow motion, but no more follow them. The lovers, friends, and families continue with their activities, as the heavy black clouds rumble over their heads.

Life in the city, just across the road, rushes by while the people on the sea-side pass the minutes in hours instead on the verge of old and new, traditional and modern, rich and poor, finite and infinite.