It’s true, Mumbai doesn’t wake up, it erupts. Never jogging, always sprinting, like it’s already late for a marathon it signed up for years ago. By 8 AM, the city is mid-argument. Horns blare, “good morning” feels more like “I’m late,” and the rush is already at full tilt. Local trains, taxis and Ubers have hit peak chaos, bikers squeeze through gaps that technically don’t exist, and every traffic signal feels like a social experiment in patience, or the lack of it.