awakened
i smile in my sleep. the wake-up call, has begun. the engine roar and then the motor sputtering, kickstarting noisily. the groggy morning spews excited chatter of women, most of who have waited from the crack of dawn. i curl up and hmmmmming to myself bury my head deeper into my pillow.
15 minutes pass.
the voices are louder. some frail and frantic, others loud and boisterous, raspy and quarrel-ravaged.
"i was here first you wretch,"
"even your mother was the same, conniving and deceitful,"
"i know why you are like this, you were a born a low-life and a cheat,"
the conversation veers to being vulgar, insulting and downright derogatory, with most of the insults being heaped on the parents of those involved in the quarrel. there's a reason to why old folks go deaf in their twilight years.
the watering hole, always the place where one is most vulnerable and most ferocious. the pegging order being decided on the amount of brute force that one possesses and guile.

the noise continues, i switch on the music system, insert a 'Nirvana' tape and scream along

With the lights out it's less dangerous
Here we are now, entertain us
I feel stupid and contagious
Here we are now, entertain us
A mulatto
An albino
A mosquito
My Libido
Yay

More than 55 per cent of Chennai's drinking water supply is privately owned and controlled by the water mafia. This is by far the greatest dependence on private players by any Indian city. Most of the water comes from the neighbouring villages, a large number of them are being bled dry gradually, truck load by truck load.