not sure
an excerpt

It seemed that Pravin was not wanted anywhere. Not in the slums when he first arrived, where everyone was made to squeeze a little closer together on the railway tracks to accommodate one more defacator. Not in the chawl when he finally located a distant relative, where he was an annoying addition to the wait times for the common toilet. And certainly not in the streets where the drivers of the cars cursed him as an extra obstacle in their daily traffic negotiation, maneuvering around the never ending piles of cow dung. Bombay, the city of his dreams and fortunes, had turned out to revolve around shit.