1440 minutes...

I don't know if this is the pretense (I put two months ago on on the way to Doha) at work. Or if this is the real me, and my life back home in Delhi was one big pretense.

I feel like knowing everybody. No more do I want to go on talking about myself. I want to listen. I want to hear everyone's story.

The construction workers, the taxi drivers, the cleaning boys, the managers, the CEOs, the rich teenagers. Everybody.

I wish I could just look at someone and know their entire story. Where they came from, how their childhood was, what they like to eat, what's their favourite dish, if they like washing their own clothes, if they're shy to talk about sex, if they ever danced around naked in their homes when they were alone...

I wish they spoke. I wish they spoke the truth. I wish they were completely honest. I wish there was nothing hidden. I wish there was no diplomacy.

Because I have begun to ask. Ask honestly.

I've started a column - 1440 minutes of your life - wherein I will catch just about anyone I see on the road, it could be anybody, and do a story on him/her. Everything about them in 1000 words. And I'll be writing the story in first person for them. They'll be talking.

I just wish they spoke the truth. Somehow they don't. At least not when a journalist's asking.

But I'm going to try till I convince them I am not here to screw them up.