There is no escape. The nine islands long stitched together by a railway track are probably the most connected place in the country. And yet, there seems to be no way out. This water locked land has changed many hands; from the Hindu fishermen to the Sultanate of Gujarat who then offered it to the Portuguese who then gifted it as dowry to a British prince who rushed out and left it to the Brihanmumbai Mahanagar Palika (The Municipal Corporation of Greater Mumbai). Its earth has been snatched from the sea, the hills and ill fated. Its waters have carried the dredge of human ambition and greed. Its air shares the weight that hangs heavy on the shoulders of mill workers and stock brokers and bollywood starlets alike. As you go about the daily motions of life, it seems to be true. There is no escape. How is it then, that a city shackled by the human appetite is synonymous with liberty. What is it that gives its people such sense of freedom that they are willing to call lego block sized apartments home. When does Bombay cease to become a city and start becoming second nature. Perhaps because it is so raw and full of paradox, it feels like love.