Dear Mama and Papa,
Despite our differences
It has broken my heart to leave our village
To leave you so very, very far behind
This astonishing city holds many challenges
Yet, you may rest peacefully
I am happy, safe and well
I am writing to tell you of my first great accomplishment
Please excuse my lack of modesty
But I am absolutely sure
Almost sure
You will be beacons of pride
I have visited Chowpatty Beach
And stood shoulder to shoulder
Amongst the elite of Mumbai
On the most celebrated and prestigious
Rubbish dump in all of India
For a poor village boy
It is truly a sea of inspiration
No well, no river
But an ocean of plastic bottles
Stretching further than the eye can see
Farther than the mind can dream
I am so grateful for your sacrifices
Your lifetime of simple meals
Fruit, veggies, dhal, chapatis
To give me this opportunity
This golden wandering
Through potato chip packets
Ice cream wrappers
Even paper plates
This isn’t just trash
This is cash
And you know what?
I couldn’t resist removing my sandals
To feel Lakshmi’s love
Dusting my feet
And the sea
The sea harbours such indescribable smells
No outdated salt
Or bygone fish
But bouquets of industry, progress, exports
I’ve heard it said they’re channelled
In a pipeline from Malabar Hill
To serve as a reminder
Such beautiful pollution
Is attainable for us all
Mumbai couldn’t be what it is
Without Bollywood fantasy fiction
I have heard a most entertaining fable
About a mythical palace called Antilia
A palace of such treasures
It could not exist on this earth
I believe it serves as an inspiration
That no matter how great one wealth
There’s no harm in coveting more
Back in the real world
I am enclosing three hundred and twenty rupees
A small contribution
But Chowpatty has strengthened my resolve
To become more than you or I
Ever dreamed I could be
I am also enclosing half of a paper plate
I took as a souvenir
I was tempted to take two
But wish my successes
To be tempered with the humility
You have instilled in me
Please show it to my siblings and cousins
As the oldest, I need to be the strongest of role models
You have brought me up not to take without giving
So I dropped my bus ticket on the sand
May it serve as a symbol
I am a man of the modern worls
A capitalist, a Mumbaikar
Your loving son
Andy Conner 