Having accidentally watched ten minutes of a head-waggling, hip-shaking, breast-jiggling extravaganza on television, the inspector wasn’t surprised t… - Shamini Flint

Buried six feet under, buried facing Mecca, burnt to cinders ... it does not matter. He is rotting in hell this very moment.

In the foreground, right on the waterfront, was a massive pastel yellow arch – the Gateway of India. “It was built to welcome King George V when he visited India,” explained his well-briefed, Google-friendly wife.
“They didn’t think a bunch of flowers would do?” asked [Inspector] Singh.
“Anyway, it was only completed twelve years after the visit.” Singh grinned. That was the sort of managerial incompetence that he found amusing.

In a few minutes, they were whizzing past small boys who had the latest cricket scores written on bits of cardboard. They held up the information for passing traffic and the drivers exclaimed at the news – Sachin Tendulkar had scored a fifty – and threw coins at them in thanks. So much for avoiding the result of the game, thought Singh. This system was more efficient than subscribing for updates on a mobile phone.