I can hear Amitabh Bachchan in the parents' room, asking phone-a-friend 'Ashokji' to help out his friend (I-have-missed-the-name-ji') the KBC contestant.
Can also hear father-in-law's disgusted 'no basic knowledge, such people shouldn't get a chance.'
Bachchan's baritone surpasses Rolling Stones' from our bedroom, where hubby is wallowing in misery at not having the TV all to himself.
In the apartment next door, the drilling machine that refuses to shut up is making our lives miserable. We've complained about the timing. In vain.
In the apartment above, our new neighbours are having a party and I'm straining my ears to catch a song I really like these days...'Woh lamhe, woh baatein, koi na jaane...'
...and struggling hard to stay awake by making furious noises on the keyboard.
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