Walk into the night gently, like a silent assassin; walk into the night when the whole of the city has cuddled into its warm blankets of comfort and safety. I promise you, you’ll unlock deadly secrets about the city and yourself.

Imagine, there is not a single soul to be seen, wherever you see there is just darkness. Nothing but the distant cry of stray dogs and the continuous blink of yellow lights in every traffic signal you encounter. You realize that you must always be on guard, always be prepared for the worst, because this is the territory of the unknown.

I can see the surprise etched on your face. You are thinking — this is the same route I take, to commute to work daily, why is it so different now? It is different though, a city is completely different during the day, with the humdrum of uncountable people travelling to work, hawkers peddling through dust, rain and storm, kids going home with an ice-cream or Bhel in their hands, the sun going down, office-goers returning home, with so much happening incessantly —a city becomes a mirage of all these illogical meanderings —nothing more, nothing less.

But nights are different. During the nights, every city takes a life of its own, and looms over the sleeping masses like a dark, deadly figure. It watches all your moves as you walk through its lanes. Do not let that fact worry you much. I promise you that the nights are safe, safer than the days at least. In the days, you’ve to deal with people. And people are difficult to handle, with all their deceptions and tantrums and lust and unending greed. Comparatively, nights are fairly easier to manage, don’t you think?

And also, every is different. Delhi is chilly during the nights, Mumbai is crowded, Bangalore is desolate, Manali is cold, Ooty is haunted, Kerala is dark, and so on. I see that you’re intrigued. That’s good. Take my advice, and start going out in the nights. Know where to get smokes if you get a craving at 3:23 AM, know where you can get a strong coffee or tea, know where you can get idlis or dosas or vadas. These little details are important. Once you’ve mastered all these minuscule secrets, you’d have already skinned the city and encountered it in its most purest form. And then you’ll be grateful for my advice. You’ll realize that a city is only as good as its residents — you, me, and everyone else here. The rich, the poor, the proletarian class, the downtrodden, the mittaiwalas, the rickshawalas, the uncle who sells vadapav near Kanjur local, the chai vala in Koramangala, the lady from the northeast who sells Momos near Patel Nagar Metro Station, and all such nameless others. All these people are the city. You are Mumbai. You are Delhi. You are Bangalore. It’s you who bestow meaning to the meaningless name given to any city. How does that make you feel? God-like? You’re right, you are god! And so am I. It’s about you, you and, only you!

Oh, me? You want to know more about me? I’m just a nomad, passing through this city like any other, I’ll be gone soon. I travel around and smoke bidis; at times, good people like you offer cigarettes, and i gladly take up on that offer. I have a lot of friends though, I crash at their places on winters. And I know a lot about the fate of men, which helps me write poetry. I pick up books from second-hand stores and read when i get time to do so. I love Jack London and Allen Ginsberg, among other fantastic authors. You know Ginsberg, right? “I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked.” Such a great writer, Ginsberg. Do I do drugs? Yes, yes I do. Let me tell you a secret, I’m on the run, which is why I like to be under the radar. My crime? Ha-ha! I tried to take forcefully what this world refused to give. I always tell people, you can’t keep everyone happy, you are going to end up on the wrong side of someone’s opinion regardless, my bad luck is that that someone in my case is the law. Anyway, I’ll take your leave now, good sir. Guess we’ll meet tomorrow, heh?

That’s good, you’ve taken my advice. I can see that you’re scared. But, that is quite understandable, you’ll get used to it. I’ll help you as of now, be at peace. Oh, that weird sound? That’s nothing, just our Chotu snoring, behind the shutter of his master’s shop. He works as a log all day. Don’t be afraid of the dogs, they are as scared of you as you are of them, which is why they bark, walk away calmly. No! Don’t do that, for god’s sake! Unplug your earphones. You ask why? You must be able to hear the noise of your flip-flops as you walk. Thump-thump-thump! Very soon, you’ll be accustomed to all this. Very soon, you’ll be like me. You just need to read Ginsberg, travel a lot, and smoke hash.

Hi. It’s me again. You seem much more relaxed now. I conclude that from your body language. Your shoulders are casually slouched, and you seem to be enjoying the late-night stroll without startling yourself at every little sound. How long has it been? Really? It’s already been 3 months? Well, forgive me. I often tend to lose track of time. You also seem to be smoking a cigarette. It’s overpriced? Yes, yes! Don’t complain though, beggars can’t be choosers. Why are you stopping in front of this dilapidated building? Yes, I can hear it too, the strumming of the guitar. Is it your friend? No? But are you sure he plays the same song every day? That’s weird! Okay, let’s settle down together. Is he playing “Comfortably Numb” by Pink Floyd? Good, good. I love that song. I wonder why he plays the same song over and over again, every day. Guess even I have limits to what can be known. Now you get what I mean? Every day is different, and so is every night. But life still manages to be painfully monotonous, no? The only fruitful lesson that comes out of life is our ability to embrace the absurdity of it. To learn this lesson, we must be open-minded and realize that our existence means nothing in relevance to the myriad. Every choice we make in life is as good as the other because nothing is going to mean anything in the end. Everything will amount to rust and stardust. Ah, Nobakov, another of the greats. Oh, you are getting confused? I get that a lot, people telling me that my thoughts are incoherent. Okay, in that case, let’s talk about other things. Ah, yes indeed, I’ll have a puff, you’re a good man. Let me tell you a story about a man I used to be friends with, one late-night, we met outside a pub …