Through a dusty car window peppered with raindrops, the city passes us by.
The people, either running along the sea face or sitting with their backs to us hidden behind umbrellas, look strangely determined in their endeavours. The men with caps turned backwards strut around, fish mouthed because of the perpetual whistle.
The sea mirrors the deep orange shade that gets associated with evenings in Bombay. Despite the mild rain, the fiery colours of the setting sun push their way through, onto the water and the sidewalk. The children writing on the sidewalk with chalk look like they have halos, the light playing subtle tricks.
The car stops at a signal and the city rushes at its windows; the increasingly aggressive rain and a fleet of beggars. They knock and beg, pointing at their chapped mouths and concave stomachs. We look the other way, but the keep tapping at the window, the rain water trickling down their gummy faces.
By the time we hit the suburbs, the golden light changes into a dark blue one and the rain comes down in a torrent. The city, now a collage of multi coloured umbrellas, bickers quietly against a backdrop of muddy roads and tired faces.
The rain continues to come down on us, even when we get out of the car, and another fairly typical day is behind us.
The people, either running along the sea face or sitting with their backs to us hidden behind umbrellas, look strangely determined in their endeavours. The men with caps turned backwards strut around, fish mouthed because of the perpetual whistle.
The sea mirrors the deep orange shade that gets associated with evenings in Bombay. Despite the mild rain, the fiery colours of the setting sun push their way through, onto the water and the sidewalk. The children writing on the sidewalk with chalk look like they have halos, the light playing subtle tricks.
The car stops at a signal and the city rushes at its windows; the increasingly aggressive rain and a fleet of beggars. They knock and beg, pointing at their chapped mouths and concave stomachs. We look the other way, but the keep tapping at the window, the rain water trickling down their gummy faces.
By the time we hit the suburbs, the golden light changes into a dark blue one and the rain comes down in a torrent. The city, now a collage of multi coloured umbrellas, bickers quietly against a backdrop of muddy roads and tired faces.
The rain continues to come down on us, even when we get out of the car, and another fairly typical day is behind us.
No comments:
Post a Comment