One of the great, rare privileges in life is living is a long-held dream. Two influences made Colaba a dream for me. First, I read Shantaram, an epic story that describes the city of Bombay in wonderful, lyrical detail. Shortly after, I fell deeply in love with an amazing Bombay girl. I had furiously wanted to walk with her down Colaba Causeway, the grandest and most exciting and most gloriously Indian street in the city, ever since.
And we did it; we ate at Leopold Café, which figures importantly in the book and still carries the weight of the tourists and hustlers and families and goondas it has hosted over the years; we bought dresses and jewels; we fended off a wide variety of tempting services; mostly, we soaked in the abundance and the colors and the good vibes. It was everything I could have wanted.