It’s been an eventful fortnight. Much celebration, some tragedy, plenty of violence, masses of hypocrisy — the usual goodies in a day in the life of India — but for four days in a row, my newspaper guy disappeared. His explanation was simple. “Saab Bhau Bheej, Bombay Bandh…aapko pata hai,” his voice trailed off, like most errant newspaper vendors.

I realised in those days, how much I missed my daily Indian news. The truth is, I’m addicted to our tabloids. I’m old fashioned — no reading off Kindles, I want to hold those large sheets in my hands, with black newsprint rubbing off on my fingers.