Rohit Sharma

The night was playing. It’s past 1 AM. It’s a weekend. The first ticks of Saturday had begun. A week has just passed. Several other such weeks had similarly passed. What remained the most awaited hours of the week? These few silent hours of the kind nights, if only one is not tired enough to actually meet them. But today, I had met them. The hours were before me. I had an unfinished book in my hand. I had been reading it ever since I had gulped the dinner down my throat. First, I hid beneath one of the staircases of the building and quietly went through twenty pages unblinkingly. That was the first meet with the long-gone friend — a self, this solitude around me, this beautiful book in my hand, and this quiet night.. The air had been calmer when I restarted again. The city is fast asleep. Yeah. What the hell with this city. How the hell I ended up here. These questions are so naughty. One rarely finds oneself observing the breath entering and leaving the lungs. Like many Indian cities,...

Few days back I was interacting with someone who got interviewed online by a startup founder. He had mentioned about his living at Mumbai to which the founder flagged a cautious note of sympathy and potioned a brief good luck, "All the best living Mumbai". It's not so strange as it sounded to the interviewee who got recently shifted here. As the office downtime starts and we get to the heavily chorded highways while slowly driving our vehicles, I observe random ambulances chasing the breath, trying to find a sordid corner to get past, and it continues till the end of the traffic river which flows at no pace at all. Today I was accompanied by two such ambulances, one to the left, another at the right. The loud sirens of both the vehicles echoes in resonance and still they moved as slowly as the rest of us. On my 45 minutes ride home, I was with them for 30 minutes or so. I wonder how does the siren helps..  Maybe there should be a city-specific solution, more in depth acro...