The Great Indian Democracy

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Twenty-something Vikram rebels against his father and the mediocre life his engineering background has ordained for him by travelling to Delhi to become a stand-up comedian.
She walked in, wearing a crushed linen shirt which looked like it was spun out of a yarn made just for her.……… She glided through the gentle air as smoothly as an oar cutting across the early morning mist and creating those ripples against crystal clear lake water. …My eyes stood frozen, an uneasiness developed in my belly, my legs trembled, and my hands searched for places and things to stop them from being restless… Mozart started playing out one of his best compositions in an orchestra across my mind, when… ...the fucking bastard Baldy sang it out of sync and made it an African tribal song.

“Meet Advaita, who has joined our team as a political analyst.” I wanted to feed Baldy to the lions, like they do in the Gladiator movie and sit there in the crowd cheering as the lions tear his balls apart.
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Manivannan was in Class 4 when he wrote his first story–it was torn apart and laughed at by everyone in school. Including the watchman, who didn’t even know how to read. He took a secret vow that day to return to writing. If only to prove his watchman wrong!
He went on to complete his Engineering from SSN, Chennai and MBA from XIM, Bhubaneswar. Currently focused on finding a killer recipe for his start-up venture without burning his hand, he spends most of his time trying to sell his concept to investors. Manivannan lives in Chennai, braving its freezing temperatures in a yellow checked lungi, gazing aimlessly at the night sky (he is an expert at that), and with desperate hope that one day the Gunners will become invincible again.
He insidiously stalks people on Facebook with the profile Mani Inam and on Twitter with the handle @maniinam7.