Noon.

The city is napping. The roads are empty and the shops have shutters pulled half way and the sleeping feet of the owners are seen. Their blue-and-white chappals stick out of their feet, exposing muddy soles.

The auto makes a clacking sound, as it runs on the wet street. The auto driver is humming some song. I get out to buy some food, and he makes exasperated sounds on having been made to wait. When I come back, with a bag full of plastic food packets, he is gone. I sit and wait for him, while he smokes not far from where I am.

The food bag eventually gets wet, because the rains like most other unpleasant things, creep up on you at the worst possible time. Exactly when I leave the auto, it rains in a frenzy. My hair sticks to the back of my head and the bag of food cannot be protected beyond a point.

I walk into the building, dodging flyaway cricket balls, and reach where I have to, not as displeased as I thought I'd be.