Rain - humid smoky Bombay rain.
We watch it bring down the blue plastic sheets on autos; furtive couples breathe while the unkind city looks the other way for a while.
Water streams across the streets. Tea coloured water with pieces of rubbish floating in it.
A bearded man sells peanuts in newspaper cones. He holds it out to passers-by, calling out the price. Nobody stops.
A child stands at the side of the road and pretends to be an aeroplane. Children do that, arms stretched wide and guttural sounds is all that it takes. His mother begs him to come under the umbrella.
The black umbrellas bob against the beige buildings. The garish ones scream for attention. Neither keep you from getting drenched.
Lazy Sunday afternoon rain. We watch the scene from behind dark windows with our hands wrapped around ceramic coffee mugs.
The thoughts all blur into each other - the reckless children on rainy afternoons, the people, the smells. There is a sense of deja-vu.
The days now all roll into one big burly monsoon.
We watch it bring down the blue plastic sheets on autos; furtive couples breathe while the unkind city looks the other way for a while.
Water streams across the streets. Tea coloured water with pieces of rubbish floating in it.
A bearded man sells peanuts in newspaper cones. He holds it out to passers-by, calling out the price. Nobody stops.
A child stands at the side of the road and pretends to be an aeroplane. Children do that, arms stretched wide and guttural sounds is all that it takes. His mother begs him to come under the umbrella.
The black umbrellas bob against the beige buildings. The garish ones scream for attention. Neither keep you from getting drenched.
Lazy Sunday afternoon rain. We watch the scene from behind dark windows with our hands wrapped around ceramic coffee mugs.
The thoughts all blur into each other - the reckless children on rainy afternoons, the people, the smells. There is a sense of deja-vu.
The days now all roll into one big burly monsoon.
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