They stopped communicating and he started learning how to live his life in the manner he liked without any interfering advice from his mentors. In order to confront the new-found solitude the new bloke in town began strolling about the alleys for days only to bum into some counterparts who had also gone through the similar situation.

They agreed to gang up against the veterans to establish a funky world in the middle of scorching Indian summer. As an adventure they hunted for glittering places which they never had seen in their paddy-field surrounding homes and rushed to experience the limelight of the colonial place which had long been an enclosed place which, by now, just started opening to the pounding power of global economy.

Experiences at strange places encouraged them to change their perspective in a way that also augmented to expand their horizon to reside at luxurious mansions and speak like those funky kids at the discos in town. They conceived that as quite the most sophisticated lingua franca. They learned how to jabber in the singy-songy manner ..what is the matter with you yaar? Are you coming na?

While the odyssey was in its peak they were waylaid by some migrated scandalous birds to feed on them. It was understandable since they were flashing daddy's Gandhi printed notes to offset for their low-profile presence as well as to impress the hungry birds, who had long been away from home and time had cancelled their dole as the stay had been unnecessarily prolonged.

The proud parents of the curious birds were people of interesting personalities with so much ignorance and so much to jibber about the whereabout and status of their offspring who they mothered with utmost affection and inconceivable.

Well, time had always lied to them so did their chirpy daughters and the snaky distance conspired to keep them far away from the reality just to ensconce with optimum ignorance.

The birds were quite flirtatious as they had learned it while walking the easy but scandalous way of life. It was few weeks ago the 'superbike' slipped out from his mouth and was allowed to materialize by the stimulating foods that he had been consuming.

Few days he accidentally stayed clean for few hours and during that short span he was reminded what he jabbered at the glittering place the other night in front of the witnesses.

Now it was a matter of a profound challenge to him given the reputation that had circulated and posted among the wasted many and despondent some in the capital-city.

The super bike in question could never be afforded by is daddy, however, a stereotype of it was widely available in every nooks and corners of the country as an effect of globalization reaching out to the every individual irrespective of where one resides.

It is midnight here, no one is asleep but there at the land of the chinks people have long been herded to their homes by the considerate Indian curfew and the fear generated by the less seen reddish scenario, he dials his dhoti-clad daddy, who for some reason still staying awake to have some gut hurting jokes over illegally possessed whisky shots with his cronies with unbuttoned Nehru-jacket, to demand what he wants to achieve.

The monologue with melancholy expression over the phone from the distant son brushes off the alcoholic stimulation for the time being and he listens at the same convinces his son to stay cool and reassures that the promised promise will be surely be fulfilled.

He, the son, exults with happiness and he thanks his dad and wishes his dad luck and health. Who does not want to see their children happy, however, how one makes his/her children happy is the point where we conflict?

He cannot sleep the whole night waiting till the dawn to reaffirm his friends and this waiting has become the longest time in his entire life.

Just to make sure that he keeps it to himself till the dawn he keeps himself engaged with certain activities which he has long ignored; mopping the muddy tile floor which was previously of white, dusting off his desk, untouched books and pulling down the months old cobwebs which have, by now, been dangling just one metre above the muddy floor.

These activities gratify him and elevate him to another blissful state where everything is productive but in someone like him things like these short-live.

The much awaited morning arrives with the blaring varied sounds of the mobile vegetables sellers who, without failing, make it a point to saunter down every alley to cater the need of the potbellied inhabitants.

Weary physically from lack of sleep and exhilarated in mind he puts on his best counterfeit Levi's jeans and with a smile that sneaks out uncontrollably from his mouth while he admires his own reflection among the reflections of Sah Ruk Khan, Bobby Deol and Salman Khan, whose revealing pictures decorate his damped walls, in the stickers-pasted mirror.

In his melodious whistling 'wind of change' runs through as if he is labouring in the face of the solemn morning to deliver the message of liberty and peace to the people who have just woken up from the footpath readdy to queue up for the public latrine and then to start peddling their tricycle to get home the meager income which enable them to feed their malnourished children.