Fantasies of grown-up life can sometimes involve very precise and somewhat peculiar details. One of those details in my case involved being able to stand at a kerb and hailing a taxi, that iconic Bombay kaali-peeli Premier Padmini—which are now to be phased out. To take a taxi just like that, when you could be doing the dutiful and frugal thing of taking mass public transport seemed luxurious, liberated and louche, which surely must be the full form of la-la-la.

My first solo taxi felt exactly as marvelous as I'd imagined. The taxi driver began talking to me amiably, asking me what I did, how my Hindi was so good and so on. The difference in our genders, ages (I was 21 he was middle-aged) and class, did not seem to have a significant weight for the short duration of that ride, however overwhelming its essentially reality, outside the cab.