330 am

As I woke up my building guard yet another time this week, at an ungodly 330 am of the morning, he added, alongwith his usual sleepy marathi gaalis, "Sunday ko bhi sabse late?" Given that the taxi driver dropping me off had already asked if our call center worked sundays also (the Meru guys are now used to the 2 am phone calls from or office address), I wondered if it was a happy thought that I returned home at night happily alone as my team slogged another half hour in office or whether it was just sad to be happy about it on a sunday night (or monday morning!). It is a beautiful time of the day, with silent streets waiting to wake up, the sea watching the shores like a watchdog, the stray cars, policemen, couple and bunches of random people loitering around, and enough silence to let you talk to yourself, with whatever energy left. Some days though, the newspaper guy beats me to my home, and once in a while my roommates look at me bewildered because I'm back home before they've slept off. Both are amusing events

This city, and this job, has so far kept me off any monday morning blues whatsoever.