Review : Take a walk down its mean streets and one gets the essence of Mumbai; pause a while at one of its Traffic Signal and one gets the essence of life. In a day scores of people go past multitudes of Traffic Signal's scattered all over the city. People sitting in their vehicles impatiently wait to get going. Though this waiting lasts but a few minutes it feels like a lifetime to them.
However unknown to them there thrives an industry that derives its livelihood from these people waiting at the Traffic Signals. The work force of this industry is not less than that of an average sized multinational. It comprises of a gamut of people thrown in together by fate or hunger. There are oddities to the likes of eunuchs, handicapped and impaired beggars, lepers, street kids, drug addicts, and prostitutes, vendors selling flowers, fruits, sunscreens to sunglasses.
Yet it doesn't end there. There is an intriguing world lurking behind all the poverty seen at these traffic signals. Each signal is said to have a manager who collects a certain percentage of the day's revenue from each of those working at the signal. The pecking order broadens further and each manager is supposed to hand over his weekly collection to the person who is in charge of the region that covers a dozen or more signals. The ladder is raised in its hierarchy and the collector of each region deposits the money with the local Mafioso, (a local king pin) who then ensures that it reaches offshore to his master.
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