Adulthood

  The horns continued to honk, a dull hum beneath the cacophony of squealing brakes and incessant "beep beep" of auto-rickshaws. Rajesh reclined against the worn seat of his auto, the sun beating hot upon the thin plastic canopy. His leg pained, a throbbing ache that refused to abate. It had been broken in a hit-and-run at the Silk Board junction, and it was healing slowly, too slowly. He observed the crowded Hosur Road in Bengaluru. Buses emitted black smoke, inching through traffic like giant, lumbering brutes. Motorcycles, with two or three riders, sped by, their horns contributing to the cacophony. Peddlers wandered between the stationary cars, hollering, "Sir, Madam, idli, dosa!" above the din. It was a chaos of frustration, a cacophony of impatience, and Rajesh, trapped there as a witness, had a bitter taste in his mouth. He was once a programmer, a coder. He had ambitions of having his own company, of creating the next hot app. He even had a notion, something...