Tuk-tuks zig-zag across our path. At the side of the road a man is slicing sugar cane and feeding it into a mechanical crusher - releasing its juice - which he offers for sale. A garishly decorated lorry (most lorries in India are uniquely decorated by their drivers) overtakes with the ubiquitous "Horn OK Please" daubed on the back. Fellow road users need no second invitation; the hooting from one direction or another is incessant.

The highways provide a microcosm of India's contrasts. Modern Japanese cars battle for road space with tuk-tuks, old Ambassador taxis, and a couple of donkeys. An incomplete flyover lies on either side of the freeway. Alongside the road lie modern apartments, salt flats and shanty houses: assorted bricks and corrugated metal perched precariously on top of one another, sometimes stacked 4 stories high.

Later I go to a music institute, where my cousin is applying for a diploma. The academic tradition is very different from what you may see in the Royal College of Music in London. Here, pupils sit on a rug, cross legged in a circle and participate in a call and repeat session with a teacher singing various ragas.

Later, we head out of the suburbs and into Matunga, in the centre of the city, the childhood home of my family. Despite being in the city centre it is quite a lot quieter than elsewhere in Mumbai (although these things are relative) since the tuk-tuks are not allowed. This leaves more room for cows to chew the cud on the pavement.

The original family home (part of a three story block) has been demolished and replaced by a modern and well-facilitated 12 story building. My aunt's apartment is now on the 7th floor providing some excellent views over the city. The monsoon weather means a stiff breeze blows off the sea, a welcome rest bite from the heat.