Pouring at dusk

Bougainvillea bushes have sprung up rapidly. We haven't had rain, but colours ranging from white to deep red and a many unnamed ones in between line the roads as I ride to work. The occasional nonchalant ox with small slits for eyes and a hairy hump passes patiently through the middle. A single broken down vehicle causes delay, and if it's a truck, especially a big one, then... The atmosphere today was different, the population in office, sparse. A few random heads floated in a sea of cubicles. Many chose to work from home. I waited till I had completed my day's commitments. The streets weren't deserted like they used to be during India's matches in the final stages of important tournaments.

A projector was set up in the cafeteria. I had lost interest in watching cricket a while back. It isn't a game designed to survive time or transcend geography. What lies in its favour is its commercialization in the subcontinent. As a result some cricketers are better at their antics off the field. I was telling a colleague today, if cricket does one thing, it seems to bring a variety of people together in this country, where we are so often divided even by language barriers. I received the reply, "It's just for a day. What about tomorrow?"