It was one of the chilly winter evenings of December. Vihan let out a deep sigh as he put in hands in the pockets of his jacket. It had been a long time since the last time he had sat on this bench of the park. He took out his mobile phone, checked his Photo Gallery, and kept the phone back into his pocket. He calculated something for the umpteenth time in the back of his head, then got up and started walking on the tracks of the park. Vihan was a Computer Science graduate and was working in one of the top 50 fastest-growing startups in India as a Data Analyst. His family was happy. He had no loans to payback. And, unlike many of the engineering graduates, he had a beautiful and supportive girlfriend too. (I'm sorry if you feel it’s a personal attack. It is!) He had everything that a person asks for in his life --- stability, love, and support. But strolling in that park, he felt as if he's lost. And he felt guilty for it. Vihan harked back to the day when he had seen Om ...
“ Oh, crap!! It’s begun raining again, ” said Tanya to herself. Mumbai, called as the city of dreams. Home to millions of dreamers, strugglers, and The Achievers. They say a person’s biggest weapon is his hope. Hope to succeed in life. Hope to have a decent life. It is this hope, which fuels every Mumbaikar to grind through the early mornings and late nights, each and every day. Here, even an overcrowded local is considered to be empty enough till you can manage to step at least one foot inside the compartment. One should only try this stunt at their own risk as this act is only performed by trained professionals i.e. the Janta of Mumbai. Picture from Pinterest On one of these ordinary monsoon days in the ordinary lives of these extraordinary Mumbaikars, there stood Tanya, gazing through the blue-tainted glass window of her office main hall. She worked in one of the biggest Finance and Investment Banking firms in Mumbai, called "The Daily Investor" as a Senio...