Bombay dreams

Before arriving in Mumbai, I had anticipated not enjoying this rapidly growing city after the natural beauty and pace of life in southern Indian. Happily, I was wrong.

I joined the travellers' trail in Colaba and quickly fell in love with the tree-lined streets and epic buildings and made firm friends with my fellow residents of the very basic - but buzzing -Salvation Army Hostel.

My grandfather walked his first Indian footstep

s in this part of Mumbai, or Bombay as it was then known, and described it as a city of tremendous zest and vitality - in all its chaos.

"My first impressions were that a good part of the whole population were on the street together, at the same time; it was seething with swaying bodies and incessant noise from the people and the traffic."

The first thing I visited was The Gateway of India, Mumbai's celebrated waterfront landmark. This was the first and last thing my grandfather saw of India:

"The last view I saw as we sailed away from the dock area was our first when we arrived: the Gateway. I remember looking back for a long time as it faded into the distance of time, and space. Time I would never have again, yet the space I hoped I might well encounter again someday."

In its shadow, or arguably the other way round, is the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel - one of the sites of

Mumbai's terrorist attacks in 2008. Shamefully, myself and a friend, went to one of its grand restaurants and shared nothing more than a bottle of mineral water - but India's finest and most expensive bottle of mineral water, don't forget! I failed to place this magnificent hotel in the context of the India I had known up until this point.

Over the next few days, just about surviving the sweat-inducing humidity, a group of us visited the sights of the city and caught a Bollywood film

at Regal Cinema. Chowpatty beach was a highlight, where flocks of people succumbed to its magnetic pull to enjoy the hazy light of sundown. The beach is a hive of activity at this time, with food sellers, chai-wallahs, games and fairground rides and hundreds of people playing in the surf. The high rise buildings were perfectly sillouhetted in one direction (with the throngs of people creating a subsidiary skyline), and, in the other, you could see the southern-most curl of Mumbai's reclaimed coastline.

We joined the social scene at the infamous Leopold's Cafe (which still bore the bullet holes from that fateful day in 2008) and became 'Bollywood extras' for an Indian soap opera, named 'Geet'. This involved two of us dressing up as air hostesses (my badge name was 'Nancy Drew' - classic) and dabbling in a bit of acting on an airport set - how we laughed!

I quickly became comfortable in the ebb and flow of Mumbai life and understood why the many ex-pats had settled there.

Of course, for all the glamour, there is the grittier side of Mumbai and some of the people I spoke to, many who lived on the street, reduced me to tears. Mumbai is a city of great dreams, found in its developing industry and increasing wealth but also on the streets and in the slums.

I tried to embrace all of it: meeting the men who, in God's name, throw bread rolls into the sea at night for the fish; having my photo taking holding bare-bottomed children; befriending mangy dogs; and dancing in the street with a wedding party.