His head resting on the window sill, arms akimbo, eyes staring but not really seeing, he greeted the dusk. From the distant mosque, the faithful were being called to prayers by that soul-wrenching voice as the night birds began circling the minarets in the golden evening sky. The single street lamp slowly came to life, flickering once, twice. Its bleak glow illuminated the heavy pall of dust hanging in the air and he blinked suddenly.
In the greater scheme of things, 3 years probably means very little. When you find yourself mentally rewinding through the last 3 years however, perhaps the burden of time hangs heavier. Why has this come up ? Not being around for the last 3 monsoon seasons, I'd almost forgotten why we're obsessed with the rains. Those who care enough have a check list of things to experience, gleefully cross off items one by one. Gastronomically, there's a bounty of items that's tied to our memories of rain. मक्का, चाय, à¤à¤œिया, पकोडे, समोसे, दोसा-साम्बार ... the list of steaming hot tangy & spicy food that seduces the palate through the length & breath of India in the rain is quite likely endless. If you are from Pune however, there's something you may just have experienced in your teens and college years. And are quite likely hankering for now, as you stare at the glinting droplets of water, the gentle roar of rain and the emerald newness of the leaves. I refer to biking in...
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