Tales from a Travelling salesman

Sunday-stray thoughts Sunday is a prized possession for most people. Alas, not for me. Unlike others, I do not look forward to it as a well-deserved break from the stressful toil of the week. I have always treated Sunday casually and let it pass unaffected. Maybe I did not carry that kind of stress, or maybe my restlessness never allowed me to take a break other people need to take.  When I was a young adult, Sunday only meant that I had to wash my hair and look forward to some extra special meal my mother will have made. When I lived alone as a young professional, I used Sunday to scout the city I lived in; by bus, by cycle, by foot. I will be dog tired by the end of it and actually look forward to working on Monday.  Sunday was always an adventure, moving around the country with two young girls and a wife; Baroda, Calcutta, Delhi. Mumbai. Packing them off in 1980 vintage Ambassador and visiting Baroda museum, Alibaug zoo, Victoria memorial, India gate lawns, Lodi garden, Ga...

Weekend woes  Mumbai weekends, like everything else, bear their own character.  Friday morning is when it begins. Everyone at work drifts in slower than normal. Their gait announces a whiff of freedom from the tyranny of the week. The coffee machine whirs slowly and bears witness to the gossip that gets louder. Riots of color transform office corridors on Friday as opposed to mournful whites and blacks of the weekdays. The new menus of the eateries fly thick and fast over the intranet. By 12 pm, office goers exit for a liquid lunch that ends at 3 pm. By 6 pm, bars around offices fill three layers thick. Everyone orders drink in an ugly hurry to drown all trials and tribulations of the week. Married members of the gang have their eyes on the clock to catch the 7.30 pm Borivali fast. Home beacons to them. Those adventurous enough to stay back order paneer or chicken tikka masala and cheese naan, and more drinks.  Saturday Mumbai sleeps till late. The day's first order is...