The Maharashtra chief minister proudly announces he was once a autorickshaw driver, that’s good, but I hope he’s not flirting with politics as I see rickshaws flirting with death:  

It lay smashed on the side of the road. Frail and pathetic, like a small defenseless animal that had been ripped apart by a monster. Its tubular frame bent inwards as if some giant hand had squeezed it all together. The tiny, impertinent wheel which should have been in front, was now pushed inward and looked like another gear wheel of the engine. There was no driver’s seat, and the passenger seat was twisted like a piece of pliant plastic.

A teacher pointed out a young child to me, “She’s good,” said the teacher, “she knows all the answers but hesitates to put up her hand!”

“Why?” I asked bewildered.

“She’s scared to be wrong!” said the teacher.

On silver sands on a beachfront a pair of reading glasses looked myopically at the sea. They belonged to me. I discovered they were missing only after reaching home. Couldn't find my spare pair either, nor the ones made for computer screens. I could do everything but read. The morning papers arrived the next day: "Don't strain your eyes!" said my wife. I did and smiled, how different was the news.

‘A ghost wearing a helmet,’ I said watching the eerie figure of a skeleton dancing up and down in front of me. ‘I thought you guys had a thick skull, I never knew ghost wore helmets.’

‘If I’d only worn one when I was alive, I wouldn’t be a ghost now,’ said the strange figure glaring at me.

‘Aha,’ I said, ‘therein lies a horror story.’

Met a friend of mine, and we spent some time chatting with each other. “You know Bob,” he said, “I grew up in Ahmedabad and when I told my family I was going to Mumbai they asked me if I had taken leave of my senses. They told me how it was near impossible to get accommodation in Mumbai, how traveling was terrible with the heavy rush, and how lonely the city could be for outsiders!”