That is if you’re talking about my roof or the Fort. I’m back in the city after 2.5 months, sitting on my roof, watching the melancholy silence while the evening namaaz from afar pierces the motionless atmosphere.
October. So you’ve come finally. Thus passes the sleepy September. It’s that time of the year again… Preparations start for Diwali, THE festival of the year for many of us here, while Navratri and oncoming Dussehra adds festivity to the air. Yet, as I’m standing here on my roof, the lonely explosions of crackers exploding now and then somewhere far away leave a doleful echo on the horizon.
The evening itself seems to be an epitome of sadness. Only the approach of night gives one some hopes of warmheartedness with colorful homes shining like stars in the distant horizon heralding the festive season of Diwali (the first, amiable face of the winter).
But, it’s still evening yet. And sadness still hangs in the air. It seems to me that some of that sadness, wafting in the evening air since I was a child, has seeped into me as a result of overexposure to it. (I should have spent more time with friends rather than fooling around alone on the roof)
It has become an addiction, one which you know is like a ghost. It’ll come back to haunt you, no matter where you go, how much you change. And you can’t avoid it.
This evening…and this sadness…