Observations || Stories || Ideas

This post is a part of  Write Over the Weekend , an initiative for  Indian Bloggers  by BlogAdda “I wish someone told me” said Sadanand gulping his last shot of tequila down his throat. This was his seventh for the night. Not a known drinker; something today made him weak from inside, an unknown, excruciating pain was making inroads into his heart. He seemed to lose his control over his speech which is otherwise very rare and reserved. He wished he had a company- one that could be his drink-buddy. He had been a recluse, a bigot all through his life. Always did things on his own terms. An intellectual whose thought process was adored and applauded by his peers and admirers; the most brilliant analyst and sociologist, who strove hard, all his life to reach out to the rural parts of India and do mindboggling research and analysis. His findings were stunning and seemed to invoke great sense of onus on Indians. But, today he was upset. Reason was known but accepting it wasn’t