It is that time of the year again, when I sign my pre-orders. I have just got back from Manipal, utterly exhausted with knotted shoulder muscles, numb finger tips and a feeling of wanting to sleep for a hundred years. I am bone-dead tired.
I left for Manipal, on 25th which has one of India's finest and most advanced Printing press. To reach Manipal, you have to travel to Mangalore, and then go by road, a journey about an hour and a half. My flight was late, and by the time I reached Manipal it was about 7.30 pm. I checked into the hotel, and knew I had two long days ahead of me.
The next morning, we reached the press at 9.00 am.
There were two completely unrelated incidents that happened on Sunday, which would change Ayan’s life forever.
1. He attended an office party thrown by his boss in a swanky uptown pub in Pune.
2.More than a thousand miles away, in a small village in Kerala, not identifiable by Google Maps, his grandfather had a fall.
morning, unaware of anything but the clock on his computer ticking,
Ayan took a sip of the horrendous office tea with over-boiled tea
leaves, too much milk and sugar. He had only forty-five minutes left
before the meeting was to begin. Beads of perspiration trickled down his
forehead into his eye, and he blinked. His brow furrowed, he sat
hunched, with an ache in his neck, his fingers flying across the
keyboard. He felt as though somebody was raining blows inside his head.
His throat was parched despite the tea, and now his stomach began to
feel queasy as well.
He regretted having that fourth tequila last
night. But Randhir had insisted. You can hardly…