Yes, it is factual. I hate waiting for people, even for the loved ones. Anyhow, last Saturday evening I had no preference but to wait for my cousin to come home. I murmured to myself and settled down on the stepladders to wait.
The twilight was meeting, and the heat was less passionate in the dimness of the clouds near the sea. I shifted edgily, not comfy being sheltered outside a house that was only a door away…and a glass door at that.
Then I memorized the splendid sea facing view at Worli, Mumbai. The tune of the sea waves pleased me fairly. I began to look around and stopped fretting. This, I told myself, is your chance to see how Mumbai unwinds as hours of darkness cascade.
Cars began to draw up. I wondered if my cousin had decided to return early…but it was a woman, hair clipped short, yarn printed sari perfectly in place, marching home with an intention while a man followed clutching files. She let herself into the house below and the man followed. Elsewhere I could hear loud welcoming stray dogs.
Another door opened and a damsel came out leading a rather overfed Pug.They went through the entrance and vanished. A gang of stray dogs came gambling up.
More cars drew up –mainly Mercedes, the real moneyed car of India.
People were returning to their sponsored domiciles, their day’s work officially done.
A pizza man stood at the foot of the steps looking optimistically at me, and then moved on to make his enquiry elsewhere.
Across the road, children came out to play in the garden, while their mothers began the ceremony of cuisine of the sunset feast. Somewhere a television set bloomed thunderous and was hastily silenced.
The Pug returned, tongue hanging sideways, and tired by 15 minutes of walking. The damsel, stern faced, led the pug inside the house. She stepped herself out, leaped in a car and drive off in to the darkening distance.
Lights came on around me, the small ones twinkling gold and silver, the big ornamental door lights enlighten slowly from deadly to brilliance.
The sharp smell of onions and garlic frying emitted from the house beneath. I wondered if Ms Perfectly –worn-sari was indeed cooking, or poring over her files while her maid stirred the contents of the pan.
The aroma of food made me feel a sharp hunger, but I stilled it, knowing that I had half an hour more, at least to go.
I contemplated the fact that no one stepped out of the dwelling, once inside. It was nevertheless the doors had sealed the inmates in and would not let them out till the next day. Cars kept coming in, depositing their occupants and then taking their positions for the night.
I scratched my ankle where a parasite had buffeted.
Footsteps made me look up from an inspection of the bite, it was my cousin’ 30-year-old, who came running out of the cab on seeing me. He was remorseful. I conjectured why. The sunset had been an obligatory breathing space, which, I must admit I had enjoyed immensely. Then, it was time to let the house swallow me too.
The twilight was meeting, and the heat was less passionate in the dimness of the clouds near the sea. I shifted edgily, not comfy being sheltered outside a house that was only a door away…and a glass door at that.
Then I memorized the splendid sea facing view at Worli, Mumbai. The tune of the sea waves pleased me fairly. I began to look around and stopped fretting. This, I told myself, is your chance to see how Mumbai unwinds as hours of darkness cascade.
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| Bandra Worli Sea link. Source: Google Images |
A Overfed Pug. Source: Google Images
More cars drew up –mainly Mercedes, the real moneyed car of India.
People were returning to their sponsored domiciles, their day’s work officially done.
A pizza man stood at the foot of the steps looking optimistically at me, and then moved on to make his enquiry elsewhere.
The Pizza Man. Source: Google Images
Across the road, children came out to play in the garden, while their mothers began the ceremony of cuisine of the sunset feast. Somewhere a television set bloomed thunderous and was hastily silenced.
The Pug returned, tongue hanging sideways, and tired by 15 minutes of walking. The damsel, stern faced, led the pug inside the house. She stepped herself out, leaped in a car and drive off in to the darkening distance.
The sharp smell of onions and garlic frying emitted from the house beneath. I wondered if Ms Perfectly –worn-sari was indeed cooking, or poring over her files while her maid stirred the contents of the pan.
The aroma of food made me feel a sharp hunger, but I stilled it, knowing that I had half an hour more, at least to go.
I contemplated the fact that no one stepped out of the dwelling, once inside. It was nevertheless the doors had sealed the inmates in and would not let them out till the next day. Cars kept coming in, depositing their occupants and then taking their positions for the night.
I scratched my ankle where a parasite had buffeted.
A parasite: Source: Google Images
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