24th September '07
It’s the droplets in the air, which make me misty. I want to stay in this world, the real world but the rhythm of the pattering drops lull me away.
It’s a silvery-grey world outside the window. And inside it’s a dreamy affair. Walk into any of these, and you are doomed for the day.
The sun took a holiday today. It’s probably sleeping in a bed of soft cushiony clouds. And mumbling softly when a dream shifts on to another.
And what about these raindrops? Are they totally in love with Calcutta? So much so that they want to pour and seep into every part of it? Mmmm. What love?
My pink-laced little umbrella is still thirsty. Maybe I’ll give it a walk in the rain on the way home from work.
But whose gonna walk me?
Meanwhile Denver echoes in my ears. “ A walk in the rain by your side. A breeze through the warmth of your tiny hands. I’ll do anything to make you understand. I love you more than anybody can.”
I want a butta under my chhata in my hand.
Cha garam cha with hot pakoris.