17/05/2026
Every night, when I finally finish work and go to sleep, the eastern sky has already begun to turn pale.
Somewhere in the distance, the first Mumbai local passes by, its faint metallic rhythm waking the city like an iron heart beginning to beat again.
Across my balcony stands an abandoned high-rise. Half-built, empty, and forgotten for years. Only one narrow window glows in the dark. I have always imagined it to be a security guard’s room, watching over a dream that never became a home.
Sometimes, in the flicker of the aircraft warning light, the building appears and disappears like a tired giant. For a moment, I can almost see what it could have been. Families returning home. Children playing downstairs. Windows glowing with ordinary happiness.
But someone’s greed, someone’s negligence, or some endless dispute stole its future. Now it stands silently in the middle of Mumbai, holding the ghost of everything it might have become.
Maybe that is why it stays with me.
That unfinished building feels like the unfinished wish we all carry inside us. Something life paused midway. Something we stopped speaking about, but never truly forgot.
And sometimes, when a little light flickers inside the heart, we see it again and wonder how beautiful life might have been if it had come true.
Anyway, morning is here.
And the city will soon make even its unfinished dreams look ordinary.