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As I walk amidst this empty road, overlaid by cold breezes of night and honks of distant vehicles, I can feel the warmth of my breath fading into thin layers of smog. The weight of the case which is dangling in my right hand has now almost dispersed somewhere, when I see a black figure across the corner of a shadowed alley. His attire has camouflaged him into the darkness, until your eyes are sharp enough to see glasses shining on his cheekbones. My legs begin to tremble from the fear now swimming in the nerves. My body automatically paces faster, trying to hide the growing tension in my brain. Through the corner of my eyes, I can now assert that the figure following me is a tall muscular man, very carefully suppressing the noise of heels his boots are making. I try not to make it obvious that I'm scared and I hope my destination is nearer. Unfortunately, I've a plenty of miles to go if I somehow manage to pass this ongoing chase. My mind is flooded with numerous thoughts, totally submerged in unwelcome outcomes. My eyes turn around as I spin to see the man. To my surprise he is gone, vanished. I wonder if I turn back, he'd be standing in front of me like those very usual scenes. Sighing, I'm thankful as my way is now clear and I head to another street, totally engulfed with traffic. But my instinct tells me I'm followed again. I pretend to ignore and keep my head straight, which is very difficult as the sound of the same heels clicking the grey cement of the path hits my ears. I begin to stride faster, so absorbed that I almost miss a car passing by while crossing the street. I dodge it and lurk back, the guy has again vanished. But by this time my confidence has evaporated as I realize I'm not safe. I again find myself jogging in a dark empty street, periodically turning back to see the follower. As I reach a sharp right turn, the man is right in front of me. My eyes widen and my breath hitches as I witness a gun in his hand. My heart is pounding hard against the rib cage. I take a few steps back, fear raging through my veins. Just as he is about to point the gun on my chest, my left hand reach the back of my waistband and pull out the revolver. In exactly two seconds I hear the bang of the bullets hitting his torso, making the blood ooze out. He's now shaking to even keep the gun in place. Just as I pull the trigger for the third shot, my eyes are wide open. They flutter as I hear few thuds. My eyes readjust the gaze in this tiny room where I just woke up from an adventurous dream. I push off the blankets and stand, savouring the morning air and calming my breaths. I hear distant chatterings of children, women and vendors on the street through the half open window. A fresh smell of tea hover around my nose. My steps lead me to a small living room where three kids Sonia, Rajan and Kunal are quietly watching TV. It's an action movie ,Shahrukh Khan shooting the villains. Hmm so that's how I woke up. I walk into the kitchen where Kanta in her marathi style saree, is pouring tea in some brown cups they call kulhad. She chirps "Hello didi" with the same smile which let me stay here for a night as a part of my Mumbai's basti tour. As I take the cup and step out into the narrow street of this chawl , my eyes roam around the similar tiny houses like Kanta's. Children rushing to school in slippers, rolling the tyres. Women on terrace gossiping with each other. Men leaving for jobs on their bicycles, lunch all packed and hanging on handles. The usual long line for tap water. I smile and sip the warm tea. Once again the simplicity of this basti calls me to pack my bag and explore this congested little world. "Kanta! Let's go".