Three Days

Day 1

A day of having your nostrils flooded with the smell of sucrose and your head covered in bagasse, in a small mill located somewhere in the sugar bowl of India.

A day of becoming an engineer again. Revisiting the ghosts of the pasts…conjuring the bituminous demons and fly ash witches, that all this while lay in a slumber somewhere in the dark caverns of memory. Once again walking through the crisscross maze of conveyors, belts, dryers, furnaces, turbines, generators and crushers. To and fro, up and down. Like an ant in a mound…a human ant in a mound of steel and concrete, carrying the load of expectations; too heavy to carry, too dangerous to drop.

A day of being happy about it all being in the past. Summoning the ghosts and setting them free!

Day 2

A day of wandering off into a jungle, painted primarily in green, unlike its concrete coloured counterpart. Where humble trees of mango and litchi replaced megalomaniac dwellings and workplaces. A day of enjoying the unblemished reflections from the rain drops on tree leaves, losing sight of the distorted images coming from the shiny glass panels mounted on steel structures. A day of walking along the banks of a placid canal, forgetting the mad rush of reaching point B from point A. A day of stepping into shit, and happily realizing that this one could be washed away…

…A day of being far away from the world,yet being so close to nature…

…A day of eating without counting calories, without looking at the watch and without worrying about the wallet. A day that ends on a charpoy bed with a mosquito net, with the rain gods orchestrating a somnolent symphony, duly accompanied by the not so harmonious crickets and frogs.

Day 3

‘A rainy day’.

A day of getting up before the sun, ears still tuned into the rhythm of the downpour from the night before. Tracing the excited water droplets’ gravity defying motion, spurred by the rapid devouring of kilometers of asphalt every minute by a four wheeled beast. A day of closed ACs and open windows; feeling the splash of the drops on the face, not giving a fuck about the expensive leather upholstery…

…A day of playing football in the rain. Having your pride washed down the drain by a bunch of newbies, kicking your ass with their unorthodox play and carefree spirits. 10-1. A day of celebrating the little success that comes at the end of a series of blows of failure…

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I read this quote once somewhere- “We do not remember days, we remember moments.” I guess I realized it’s true meaning in these three days…

Dedicated to the time I spent in Asmoli and Amberpur(Khatauli) over the last weekend.

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