From MISSION MUMBAI: We zoomed through the streets of the city as it stirred to life. In front of dilapidated huts, made entirely of recyclable material, stoves were already lit, heating up steaming pots of food. Women squatted on sidewalks, totally at home in this open-air kitchen. I was amazed at how comfortable they looked, living on the street. Sufficiently awake by now, I started clicking away on my Nikon, pausing every few seconds to wipe my sweaty hands on my shorts. Shortly after, we arrived at Victoria Terminus. It was the equivalent of Grand Central Station in New York City, but it couldn't have been more different. Nothing had prepared me for the explosion of sight, sound, and color. Even at 6:45 the place was packed. People jostled us, calling out to one another as they hurried toward the dusty white-and-blue carriages waiting patiently along the length of the station. Sweating porters with unimaginably heavy loads balanced on their heads loped by. They were followed by families probably on their way to the country for vacations. The pungent smells of samosas, fresh ink, and pee lingered in the air. I stood there and gaped, enveloped in a frenzy of human activity unlike anything I'd seen before. There also lingered a twinge of panic. If I got lost here, how would I find my way back home? Why had I refused to carry the cell phone Mom had offered? Excerpted from Mission Mumbai by Mahtab Narsimhan All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.