Rohit Sharma

Sunil works in one of the corporate offices of the city of Pune. He is a youth from the Northern state of Uttar Pradesh, one with a population of 19 crore! He is a migrant worker in this city. Thin and straight, he works as a office boy. He is placed here by a third party which offer contractual jobs to people. Sunil serves the employees of the office. He rather moves invisibly inside the premises, often carrying a tray in his hands, or silently standing at a distance to count the number of people present in the office. In the morning, he serves hot tea to the employees. The tea would exactly be the same, like each morning. It carries a perfect proportion of ginger, milk, sugar and the tea leaves. Sunil is never late. He serves everyone by 10:20 AM, then he dissolves into the background. Plain and simple. The office has several cubicles. There are meeting rooms. There are washrooms. There are cabins for managers. There is a desk at the entrance. There is a place where IT gu...

This is 2020. The clock ticked 4:30 AM. It is plain dark outside. There is a curfew at place. The streets are plain empty & at its most silent hours. It's been two months that the pandemic has lingered & does not seem to end any soon. The month of May brings the waves of heat to the northern city of Delhi. Agar slept a bit early the day before. He is awake now. His calm has started to break from the chambers of his patience. The pandemic has only been growing in size. The death count has been moving upwards. The human tragedy is broadening at an uncertainly high pace. It's a single room rented place. Agar's body is feeling ached. There is too much sitting and he would spend a big chunk of his time swiping through the five-inch screen of his mobile. There are all kinds of people in that rectangular screen. There are individual stories. There are agonies. There is desperation. There is uneasiness. There is helplessness. And there are happy warriors. They a...

Ganga was flooded. It was a sight to see. It was as if She is rebelling against the humans for the kind of apathy we have displayed to her. The sky was faded in a bluish sense. We don't know if it's a morning or an evening. The height of the swelling water was touching the sky. It was bloated and running in unimaginable volume. The ghats were drowned. Local people had to move up & leave their businesses behind to save themselves from the calamity. Everyone could hear the sound of the flowing water in a tumultuous rung, aggressive yet beautiful, fearful but poetic. A naive would think that an ocean is emerging out of the mountains. It is something else. More abstract than a reality. Raghav, a full-time city dweller, lives afar from the Ganga river. Yet, he has traveled many times to the city of Haridwar & Rishikesh, first out of curiosity and later with the non-defying crave to calm down his bursting nerves with the company of the river. He is still i...

It was midnight when Ramesh sent off his friend and promised him that he is going to board a train for Pune from the Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminal . He waved his hand towards his friend while the cab was taking him away. Very soon, Ramesh stood by himself in the middle of the vast square opposite the CST terminal with the Gothic architecture. Its a UNESCO world heritage site. The structure is grand. Ramesh was not yet tired of the long day. He has plans. He knew that the next day he had to go back to office at Pune and yet, he is here, at Mumbai. He has two carry bags hanging by him on his shoulders, forward & backwards. He took out his mobile phone and once more logged into the IRCTC website to book a train ticket, which he has delayed to the brim uptil now. He is not sure of going back to Pune. He wants to encounter this city. It's already Friday. This one day is an extra road to a two days long weekend. He came here for a training. He could simply apply for the le...

It's a Mahashivratri Fair. A seal-packed crowd is moving forward like an escalator belt. There is chatter. There is friction. There is movement. The air is thick. It's filled with dj songs, bhakti vigour and the noise of pompy toys been played by children! At the roadside, a chain of street vendors are catering to people who have come with their family & friends. Road ends at an age-old temple of Shiva. At the stairs, the queue is long and high with passion.  This is one tattoo maker. He is here since the morning and has inked dozens of human body by the evening. He came with his team to make a place among the many vendors. Has not eaten anything throughout the day. Super busy with his schedule, his forehead is glittering with sweat dots. The dusk is here. It's dark. Someone is standing with a light bulb to make a focus on the subject. One who is being inked is putting his head over her girlfriend's waist. They both seem in their early 20s. She seems com...