wutheringheights

Sanjaay threw a citrus fruit straight up in the air. He then caught it with the accuracy of a cricketer. The ‘game’ was on. He was not successful in all the attempts he made. The fruit sometimes slipped out of his hand while catching. But that didn’t bother him. Was it a catch-practice session? No, ‘uska dimag kharab ho gaya hai’ (something wrong with his mind), said the ice cream vendor, who was clueless about how many times Sanjaay threw the fruit up in the air. And how often he caught it. Dropped it. Saanjay even risked his life getting on the road while running to catch the ball  But there was skill.  He knew how to handle the traffic People gave him dolls, shirts... He accepted gifts, but never asked anyone for money Sanjaay never looked at people who watched his action. His game began with throwing the citrus fruit up in the air and ended by catching it He jumped, slipped and at times fell down. Did he miss any important catch while playing cricket in his you

2003. I was sitting inside my office of the New Sunday Express when a colleague walked in with a white polythene bag half the size of a pillow. The hall had a separate room for the Editor, which remained closed with lights always on even when he was out. "Hey, can I use this room for five minutes? I am going for a party tonight and I need to change," she asked. I didn't know what to say. I never heard anybody using the Editor’s room for any such ‘changes’ before. Apparently, she didn’t wait for my response. "See, I am using this room for five minutes, ok,?". She opened the door and then locked it from inside. I was alone in the department, and now a pretty girl inside the Editor’s room. Even though the Express office on Mount Road functioned in a very old building, it had a well-furnished washroom for ladies. Why didn’t she use it? I thought for a moment. Should I peep her through the ventilator? I knew if I wanted to do something, I must do it in five m