There are many such popular stories about Sinha but the two favourites are—1. He wants to be editor and is scheming to usurp Ed’s position and 2. He prefers trainee journalists, especially if they are female, young and pretty. While the younger girls idolize him—the prettier they are, more the idolizing—the older lot are wary of Sinha. They say he can get rather nasty when he wants to.

‘While success is important,’ Sinha continues, ‘good stories are equally important. You’ll be happy to know Ed that the special investigations team has some good stories for next week. Take Ratan’s story on—’

‘Does it have sex?’ Ed asks while he reads a news report left on his desk.

‘As I was saying Ed, Ratan is investigating the involvement of this government school principal—’

‘Why will an old toad interest our readers?’ Ed asks and starts tearing the report.

‘This old toad might be sending minor girls to ministers for sex,’ Sinha says smiling though the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

Ed raises an eyebrow and stops tearing the report. He often tears article proofs when he doesn’t like the content. There are bits of paper floating on the carpeted floor of his office.

‘Do we have proof?’ Ed asks.

Sinha nods towards his favourite brown-eyed boy, principal correspondent Ratan Ratanagiri, better known to everyone as Sewer Rat.

Sinha promotes Rat—even though he is not female and definitely not pretty—because Rat can create a story out of nothing. Rat thinks that every uncovered pothole is an accident waiting to happen; and strangely, once he finds a pothole, accidents always happen. In fact everyone calls him Sewer Rat because he seems to have done a great many stories around potholes and sewers. Not many people like him for various reasons and the constant stink of coconut oil from him doesn’t add to his general likeability. Rat also cannot pronounce ‘S’, which has led to some mean but hilarious situations. Like the other day in the canteen.

We were five on a table with two seats vacant when Rat came in with his tray and tried pulling out one of the vacant chairs.

‘Not that one,’ someone said.

Rat pulled out the other chair.

‘Not that one,’ said someone else.

‘What the fuck! Where do you want me to shit then?’ Rat yelled.

‘Not in public please!’

People at our table and the surrounding tables laughed for ten minutes after that. I know it’s a cheap joke, I know people shouldn’t make fun of someone who is ‘speech challenged’—but Rat’s a great laugh.

‘According to my shourshes it’s an open secret that the prinshipal shendsh school girlsh to minishtersh for proshtitution. We intend to catch her red-handed, we’re planning a shting operation,’ Rat says, spittle flying everywhere.

There are some smothered sniggers. Ed eyes Rat as if he has seen him for the first time.