The Second of December, 2015 It is seven am when I wake up and I still hear the motor sounds. They are from all the motorbikes that had stopped under the flyover, full of water, trying to be revived. The water seems more sinister in daylight. Neck deep, chest deep and waist deep on all three sides. The side I had driven through the previous night is also flooded now. The rain has worked hard overnight. There is an entire community of stranded persons waking up that morning. Helpless, hungry and horrified. We bond.
Chennai is underwater —and America’s outsourcing chiefs should be worried










