Driving home one night from work, I saw a man standing against the railing of the flyover, facing away from the road. Strange posture, if he was trying to look over and enjoy the view: legs apart, hands in front.
As I passed him, I figured. He couldn’t hold it any more. Fair enough, that’s what half of India does it anyway – anywhere, anytime. But why on a flyover, for God’s sake? Doesn’t he know there could be people underneath? Read more
Quite simply, putting together a newspaper in the night is a bit like teen-patti – put your money on the table and pray the player on your right is a bigger fool. Next morning, when you see what others did, you kick yourself a bit, curse some colleague and generally feel vindicated about something as small as getting the skyboxes right, or a headline. Read more