The boy approached and stared at me as though he were an examiner

Boy frowning — Boy with a sour expression

Mumbai stretches along India’s western coast, yet for a seaside city it is astonishingly loud. The wind off the Arabian Sea collides with exhaust fumes, and the air itself feels slightly grainy, as if the city has been dusted with its own restlessness. As I walked along the waterfront road, a boy who had been playing nearby suddenly stopped. His eyes locked onto the camera hanging from my shoulder—an SLR, heavy and conspicuous, apparently too tempting to ignore.

He marched toward me and stared with the solemnity of an inspector. Not merely looking—studying. When someone that small fixes you with such an unwavering gaze, you begin to wonder whether you’ve committed some unnamed offense. His brows tightened, his lips pursed, and on his face settled an expression far too seasoned for his age—as if he were privately interrogating the logic of the entire universe. Children in Mumbai, I thought, seem to grow into seriousness earlier than most.

For a moment, I couldn’t tell whether a photograph would be welcomed or rejected. The uncertainty stretched, and yet I still pressed the shutter. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t smile. He simply stared back into the lens, as if to say, Go on then—do what you came to do.

In India, many children beam and strike a pose the instant a camera appears. Others, like this boy, meet the gaze of the photographer without moving an inch—silent, steady, and uncannily self-possessed.

Mumbai on Google Map

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