Story of Sathya

Chronicles of the notorious Vakola Autodrivers

Tired, I walk down the stairs of the public bridge after reaching Santacruz station. I hunt for auto-rickshaws outside.

“Bhaiyya Vakola.”

“Nahi!”

After several futile attempts, I give up. Finally, a girl walks straight to auto and bends a little forward, exhibiting her cleavages.

“Vakola.”

“Baitho”

I glare at him and walk towards my home. 

The Solitary Writer
Step right up, it's Ste's show! Join me on my writing journey where I dish out witty tales, thought-provoking poems, and quirky musings on life. I'm a social justice warrior who sneaks in some humor wherever I can. Book, movie, and cultural critiques included. Buckle up, it's gonna be a wild ride!