Yesterday, after a rather listless and boring day at office, I walked in 'early', dodging droplets and spray and felt lethargic like a rust bucket sorely in need of some oiling. A quick run up 54 floors got the sweat running but the unease still hung heavy.
A serviced apartment comes comes with many little indulgences. A huge 10x6 feet French window is just of of the pleasures of the otherwise AC-humming-TV-blaring enclosure. I sat watching sweat drip into a tiny pool between sneakers when the rain started belting out a score on the visual scape beyond the window. A million little timpanis pounded in waves over leaf, boulder, earth, concrete, and creatures alike.
The fan languidly swirled behind me, I slid back the panes and stepped onto the ledge outside. The smell of rain, the mist of spray, and the hint of dampness embraced me with a rush. The baby droplets from the spray hung to my T-Shirt like a million fragile armadillo scales. I was submerged in Captain Nemo's world and the glowing furnaces of Hiranandani's BPO industry gently pulsated at me.
The inky, misty, darkness revealed Powai glowing like the phosphorescent iridescence of creatures many miles below the ocean. Vehicles crawled at a distance through the night like glowing cuttle fish and jelly fishes staring back thoughtfully while the streetlights streaked orange glows across.
Nautilus' bulk glowed in artificial brilliance to my right, eating steadily into Powai's hapless remaining mountains, while the city that stoked it's industry polluted the darkness with glow from millions of lights.
Water from the heavens caressed and salved everything in sight and quenched the darkness before ceasing with as abrupt a petulance as it had begun. The moistness within hung cloying heavy and threatened to burst check-dams of memories and other little things.
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| Powai, just after a shower. From the bedroom window, stitched from 24 photos. |
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