Songs of the not-so innocent

"Where the hell are the fancy envelopes? I just bought a packet last month." R was upset. This was like saying the sun rose in the east, since R's job as the office admin guy was to become frazzled at the smallest issue and start swearing. It was closing time and people had already slipped on their travel face - a mix of stoicism and weariness as they contemplated the voluntary manhandling exercise otherwise known as local train travel in Mumbai. Barely anyone paid attention as R continued his diatribe about thievery and his pay getting docked for the missing envelopes. B quietly packed up his laptop bag and joined the general throng streaming out. Compared to some of the others, he hardly travelled at all, since he only had to go about 6 stations in the wrong direction. Years ago, when B was new to Mumbai, the wrong direction idea had confused him since trains looked crowded no matter what direction he would go in. One 9 am trip to Churchgate for an interview that laste...

As messages went, it was short and simple. But he'd been staring at the screen since Goregaon station and the train was now pulling into Ville Parle. As a move, maybe it was a little more complicated. It was Friday evening. Most people, work week weary, would be streaming into homes, pubs and restaurants across the city meeting friends and loved ones . He was heading to a shared 1-bhk in Santacruz, already planning a meal for one and hoping something good was on the telly. This was his typical Friday evening in the city. The idea of sending the SMS came inexplicably. And immediately felt like a bad idea. Pointless. Then he thought about having to spend the weekend sitting on the floor of his room watching tv, hearing the clock tick and thinking about nothing in particular. Maybe it wasn't that bad an idea after all. He started typing, read the message twice and cancelled it. The question had to be perfectly phrased - subtle, fresh, interesting, non-domineering, not verbose, app...