Little Black Book

READ CHAPTER 1 HERE READ CHAPTER 2 HERE *3* The moment the firang savari stepped off the auto, the driver vroomed away to safety. The man pulled the last cigarette from the pack before crumpling it and kicking it to the side. The sight of a Caucasian male in this part of town was a rare one. Street urchins surrounded him begging him for food and money, laughing and giggling all at the same time. Their empty curled fingers pawed at him, appealing him to reach into his pocket with all them dollars. Few of the kids even had some change clinking in their hands, giving him a subliminal message. He looked at them, smiled before snatching the change from them and kicked them away. The kids ran away screaming murder as he pocketed the change, twelve rupees. The man made his way to the Shri Hari Lodge’s reception, manned by an octogenarian with betel stained teeth and glasses perched on his nose fashioned out of 1980s’ coke bottles. ‘Aleem?’ he inquired pointing to the registe...

Read Chapter 1 Here *2* The morning office rush looked at the man with judgmental eyes. The man stretched his back, the white t-shirt now blotted with splotches of dried blood cracked away from his back. He gingerly touched the back of his head and felt the matted hair clumped together. He looked around and found his empty wallet flung to the side of the road. He looked down at his feet and realized that somebody had stolen his shoes and socks. He bent down to pick the wallet up and felt pain shooting down the side of his shoulders and back. He dusted the wallet and put it back into his back pocket. A generous middle aged commuter, overcome with a surge of humanity stopped his bike and inquired if he could give the man a lift. ‘Fuck off!’ the man whinged. The commuter shook his head and took off while hurling abuses at the man and his presumed country of origin. The man picked up an old newspaper by the roadside, tore it up before folding it and putting it inside hi...

*1* ‘It was fun! Ladies night at Shalimar is always fun’ The girl gushed as she swept the hair away from her face. ‘You are cute … I like you’ her speech slurred with girly giggles as she leaned forward with pouted lips and closed eyes. ‘You are drunk!’ The man pushed her to the side, careful enough to not push her out of the moving autorickshaw. The autorickshaw driver looked in the mirror over hanging over his forehead and grinned lecherously at the girl. ‘Madam fullu tight-ah?’ The driver chuckled as he mustered all the English he knew into a comprehensible sentence. It was more a statement than a question. The man ignored the driver and lit up a cigarette. He should have left the girl alone. He should have gone back to the hotel. But the girl was drunk, and people had seen him with her. He had considered his options. Leaving her behind would ensure that people would remember the two of them long enough to discuss them the next day over brunch. Taking her along meant that ...