My hometown Allahabad was a city of education and open political debates. Now it is overrun by saffron-gamcha-wearing bikers, where to live as a Muslim is to live in subterfuge.

When you are at the brink, caught between trudging on and ending it all, an understanding look or reassuring hand – or even the memory of a dead uncle – can make all the difference.

As the onslaught of English continues, many a local word has disappeared from our lingo. But there are three words that even the kale-consuming, chia-seed-loving hipsters can’t let go of – chape, chamdi, and chutiya.

For our parents’ generation, owning a house was a necessity and a “kiraye ka ghar” was something to be embarrassed about. But for many young folks today, chasing esoteric jobs and the next unusual experience, a house doesn’t figure on our bucket list.

How does every mistri, mali, or kabadiwalla in the city automatically become a bhaiya? It’s either that, or abbey oye and abbey hatt. It’s crucial to remember that the term bhaiya comes with a guarantee of indifference and zero trace of compassion.