Little Black Book

This is, if legend suggests, that time of the year when I begin my hunt for flatmates. When I say ‘ hunt ’, I mean more like valiant search for that particular variant of mango which looks like a ball and has really thin skin and a really small gotti (seed). Before I digress any further, (by the way, there have been times when I have misread digress as tigress), I am looking for somebody, anybody who would be willing to occupy the spare bedroom in my flat. The following is the criteria which potential flatmates need to satisfy:       Split the rent, (12,650/-), electricity bill (usually ranges from 600 – 900/-), internet bill (16mpbs for 80GB @ 1900/pm), newspaper (150/-), cable (300/-) plus other general miscellaneous expenses. o    In return for his/her own room, bathroom with a heater, washing machine, microwave, fridge, fully functional kitchen, television and mattress as bed. o    Right to boast the most fancy address in ...

I am trying to understand things here. So do bear with me. I am trying to make sense of the country I live in and the country I read about in my school textbooks. Is it just me or do you also recognize the comforting sense of belonging somewhere, the core need of identity over the years has become mutant and toxic. I am not sure if it is a result of people living and working in places outside of their own cities OR if it is a result of the cities trying to shun these people who enter their womb trying to do something for themselves. You get chided if you like to call yourself as an Indian, you are looked upon suspiciously. You look upon people suspiciously who are not forth coming of the city they call home. You joke, but the uneasy feeling has already rooted itself within you. So deeply, so suddenly, that you find it hard to articulate or acknowledge its presence. I am unsure when the city and its residents enter into a codependent, possessive relationship to the point of being...

The following is the overview of the book which prompted me to read this book. “R.I.P. The Resurgent Indian Patriots. Self appointed guardians of a nation seething with anger at the endless scams and scandals rocking its very foundation. Vigilantes who vow to stop corrupt politicians and colluding civil servants. Even if it means killing them. Colonel Krishna Athawale and his team of Special Forces officers rally to protect the country from the enemy within. They call themselves the K-Team. And no one is safe from their deadly intent. Hellbent on stopping them is Raghav Bhagat, rogue para commando, gun for hire and Krishna's béte noir. Caught in the crossfire is Vinod Bedi, Special Director CBI. Reena Bhagat, a glamorous news anchor, embittered by her husband's betrayal. And two young boys, Sachin and Azaan, torn apart by the loss of a parent. It doesn't get bigger.” Sounds like a promising plot doesn’t it? Sounds like the story is something which will rise abo...