Progress on My Novel, Just So That I Don't Hit a Slack

Covered a major portion of editing Mr. Bandookwala, M.B.A., Harvard, over the last few days, though I was in pain (gentle reader see this). Now the ankle is healed. I think the ankle had twisted and the ligaments were tearing with pain. Commuting in Bombay is fraught with one risk or the other. It's a nightmare as all the sidewalks are occupied by vendors, greedy merchants who encroach, and beggars. So, you walk on the road, the risk of which is more drastic and dramatic. I don't know when the ankle twisted: on the road, or, while getting out of the train. But I had swelling and pain the next day, on waking up. Mercifully, that is over. Healing happens slowly, subtly. One has to bear the pain in silence. That means I am back to my morning walk, yoga, and weight training. Light weights, of course. Writing is what is keeping me going. Sometimes I wonder if I have anything else. I have discovered recently that close relatives are the most ungrateful because they think they have a right to. They indulge in loose talk because they think they have a right to.

Ahem, to all that! Be that as it may. I am working on another short story that would be about the love of a young couple in Bombay. It will have among other things: social taboos of a city that acts like a small town, the narrow confines of middle-class morality, and the asphyxiating aspects of life in an economically corrupt city where the rich hold on to their riches at the expense of the poor.