A walk in the city

They walked in identical confusion.

From all directions they came, and to all directions they went.  Hands were kept close to bodies, lest the fast-paced walker spanks it with his.  

Eyes were sent ahead of its owners, to prevent body-to-body collisions.  The standers and snail walkers were hushed out of the way. They were in a hurry – to buy, to sell, to walk, to leave and maybe come again.

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7:40pm.

The air was thick and moist.

The heat supplied by the sun earlier, didn’t search for where to rest.  It settled on the walkers, the sitters, sellers and buyers. The preacher couldn’t just wave it away with his Holy Book. It settled on him, ran over him and trickled down his face in slow and beady droplets.

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8:01pm.

An aroma escaped from the hawker’s trolley. Pancakes.  The scent wandered around, met stenches from that breathing garbage. A union occurs, aromatic stench.  

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8:30pm

The taxi door mourns in silent pain as commuters, heavy and small squeeze themselves in. The day has ended. Coins counted. Mouths zipped. But armpits still dripped, of tired sweat. The driver takes it on his car, drags it along in uncourted speed. Backbenchers bounce, curse as they hit a pothole.

Silence.