Suddenly Mita’s words register in my sleep-foggy brain.

‘What do you mean amazing feedback?’ I ask.

‘Firstly there’s a lot of reaction to both yours and Neelima’s articles you know but yours is getting a lot of support while most feedback about Neelima is not so nice and I thought you should know before it’s discussed in the edit meeting on Monday—very good show Polly!’

‘My article got positive feedback?’

‘Yes Polly! Heaps of it, twenty-seven till last night and right now I am waiting for Outlook to clear the pending emails. You know how slow our office server is really?’ Mita says.

‘Why are you at work Mita? It’s the alternate Saturday off today,’ I ask.

I’m touched that she’s called me to tell me about the feedback—even though she woke me up.

‘I always work Saturdays. It’s easier to do the emails when there’s hardly anyone at work—thanks for asking Polly! I gotta go see you Monday have a good weekend Polly, bye,’ Mita hangs up before I can get another word in.

I wonder where I could get a copy of the paper before Monday. Thanks to one of Ed’s crazier ideas, Tabloid is not stocked at the news stands. Our distribution strategy involves selling the paper at red lights to catch commuters. Ed thinks we can be like the Mumbai tabloids that people read on local trains.

Sinha has tried telling him that not enough people are reading newspapers on the Metro and that selling papers to people travelling on buses, cars or autorickshaws wouldn’t really work.

It’s perhaps the only time when Sinha has not been able to get his way. Ed is adamant his strategy will work; and strangely enough Tabloid sales are on the rise. Of course the figures are nowhere near what Ed wants them to be—the ‘most read’ paper in Delhi.

I look at my phone and notice there are five messages, two from Comma and one each from Neelima, Ragini and my telephone service provider respectively. I delete the last one without reading because I know it’s the usual message about recharging before the prepaid credit runs out.

‘Well written dude,’ reads Ragini’s message.

I know she is referring to the article—does this mean we are not fighting anymore?

‘Nice work for a first article Pol, very heartfelt, keep it up; b.t.w. have party tonight at my place, come over?’ reads Neelima’s message.

The condescension in her message irritates me somewhat—how does she know my article was heartfelt? I also realize that I’d completely forgotten about her party.

I pause before I read Comma’s messages. I know they’ll be nasty and I’m not ready for nastiness yet—I’m quite enjoying hearing good things about my article. But no matter what her messages say, I will not let Comma spoil my weekend.