Everyone has the horn in Mumbai and they are not afraid to use it. Even though I have experienced this type of thing before, the taxi ride to my hotel is a blast (mostly of horns). The traffic spews constantly, pushbikes and motorbikes sifting through the heaving mass of cars, lorries and tuk-tuks. Everyone beeping merrily away - vehicles should be heard if not seen. Stuck in the traffic I have my first un-solicited approach of someone trying to sell me postcards through the car window. Housing blocks are tightly packed, squeezing skywards as there is nowhere else to grow. I smile at two people on a motorbike which is bleeping furiously at our taxi as it veers left towards them. Mumbai passes into my eyes and mind but I haven't properly met it yet, in my little air-conditioned bubble.
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