Winner of Wattpad India Awards 2020 (Judge's Choice) in the New Adult category.
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"The lights are cheeky, you can't live without them, and yet if you get too close, they'll blind you. Darkness? Well it doesn't cheat. It's cool and soothing. It's r...
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"Office of The New Delhi Post, how may I help you?"
The monotony in the receptionist's tone grated on Madhu's nerves. She wasn't used to dealing with them but didn't have much choice.
She was standing in front of a paan shop, the greasy receiver of its pay phone held firmly to her ear as she made her third attempt to get through to the Editor-in-Chief of the country's top English Newspaper. Well, third best Newspaper in terms of readership though its claim towards factual integrity was higher than the first two.
Besides, the top two publications had slammed the phone when she called their office, believing her to be a fraud. For the first time since arriving in Bhabra, she craved to get back her cell phone and all the personal numbers of powerful people that were saved in it. The telephone dictionary Sunanda had given her was just not efficient enough.
"This is Madhulika Thakur, can you connect me to Tarun Javeri?"
"I don't have time for prank callers—"
"Forward the call to Richa okay, she knows who I am."
Apparently, knowing the name of his boss's secretary was enough to make him believe Madhu and a second later she heard the raspy voice of the forty-something woman who always picked out the best orchids for Madhu whenever Javeri needed a generous cheque or an interview with Mahesh Thakur.
"Ms Thakur, what can I do for you?"
"Hi Richa, sorry to be a bother I just...need to talk to Javeri."
"I can take a message." She heard shuffling of papers on the other end and the distinct sound of a cheap pen clicking. "Unless you're willing to be on hold for a few minutes. Sir is in the middle of a live appearance."
"Since when did he start doing TV?"
"Since we broke the Union cabinet corruption scandal." Traces of pride lingered in her voice. "You read that right?"
It had been a fortnight since Madhu had read anything. The newspapers Nakul had arranged to be delivered to their house were collecting dust in the corner of their veranda, both residents too busy with the internal politics of Bhabra to care about national headlines.
"Yeah of course I did, it was ground-breaking," she lied. "How long would it take him?"
"I'd give it a half hour. It's a ten-minute slot but he has to get his face powdered. These TV types are hella fancy."
"Tell me about it," Madhu said, chuckling at the mental image of her grouchy friend getting prodded by make up brushes. "Okay you put me on hold then."
While she waited, the owner of the paan stall looked up from his own local Hindi newspaper. He was nice enough to offer her free paan (she declined), free cigarette (she accepted) and an illuminating conversation, also free.
