The song 'Bombay Meri Hai' is a lie. I like it, obviously, because no one born and raised in Bombay in the 70s or 80s can hate something that was such an inescapable part of our childhood. And yet, it is the idea of a fabulous city that has begun to annoy and sadden me in equal measure. The sadness stems from the truth it once aimed to capture; that this really was a place with an enormous amount of appeal to those looking for a pleasant holiday, irrespective of whether they came from Scotland, Holland or any land. The annoyance comes from our inability to admit that what was once a beautiful city now survives only in the memory of those above the age of 40.

"Our ladies are nice, gents are full of spice," sang Uma Pocha, and we believed her because our grandparents spoke about legendary parties, the charming people, leisurely walks along the racecourse, comfortable commutes, and clean beaches. It's impossible to identify those nice ladies and gents full of spice among the harried throngs we walk past today because the smiles have been beaten out of us. We don't smile when we step out of our homes because we dread the nightmare of getting to our offices. Our commutes are never pleasurable, any parties we have are fraught with all kinds of hazards, and clean beaches exist only in Bollywood movies shot in the 1960s.