Even as the sun beat down mercilessly, the Outer Ring Road choked; the silently poisonous fumes slid quietly out of scalding hot exhaust pipes, unseen by the irreverent, impervious riders and drivers scrambling against time and gridlocked vehicles.
Not that they were eager to step into tall, glossy buildings boxed in with air conditioning on controlled temperatures and strategically placed decorative plants that define the opposite of thrive. Throttled, stunted, unnatural. Just like most of those who walk past them in polished brogues and clacking stilettos.
Not that they are eager to step into buildings where wars are waged but in a modern manner, with the mind; the perfectly said word and the perfectly timed smile with just the right about of teeth will get them what they crave, rewards and recognition. Acceptance and validation. Success, as defined by the close-minded herd that we are all part of. They do not see beyond strategy; in their books, genuine smiles and friendships for the sake of friendship and conversations for the sake of knowing better are just strategy, strategy to get to a destination, a post, a table, a plaque on the table, and the power it commands.
Their need to prove a point on the road is masked by the aforementioned eagerness. "I have wheels, I have a right to the road, I have the right to speed and I have the right to obliterate everything in my way with the fierceness of the horn, my pet warlord."
But wait, that wasn’t our point, was it.
The sun beat down mercilessly and I absently watch the only exposed brown Indian skin on my fingers roast while waiting for the Alto in front of me to get a move on. I start moving once more, but by then there is a subtle change in the wind. I lift my eyes as high toward the sky as I dare during peak traffic time and see the humongous black clouds move in slowly, but surely, blotting out all the pretty white fluff in a clear blue sky.
Now. Normal people hurry inside, take cover, point at the ominous clouds and shudder at the low grumble of thunder that seemingly emanates from the pits of their stomachs.
As a smile spreads across my face, the first drop plonks itself down on my helmet. I’m wise though, after picking the rain to love over my phone once and paying dearly for it, I ensure that the device is safely packed in my bag; I zip up my windbreaker tighter and silently send out a message to the Universe: bring it on!
And boy, does she! The first drop is followed by a melee of its kind: cool, sharp and fresh. Turning my tanned fingers to ice in the best possible way. The accelerator turns slippery, so I slow down a bit, keep to side lest the world behind me is in a tearing hurry to get somewhere inconsequential. I re-understand the meaning of being drenched right to the bone.
As the downpour becomes stronger, the motor populace disintegrates into random wisps of rrrrrs and not much more. The car drivers smug within, ensconced in the warmth of a roof over their heads, flash me, the mad girl who is seven different kinds of dripping with water, a pitying smile.
Little do they know, I’m having the time of my life.
P.S: Clearly, I'm in love with the season. I'm freezing my ass off in summer clothes because my mind hasn't comprehended the fact that summer is over. But guess what. I LOVE IT.
P.P.S: This is just random whimsy. Pliss excuse randomness while I do this :)