It was a beautiful rainy afternoon. Up above, the sky was a sea of white and the bamboo fencing wet. Light rain went pitter patter pitter patter.
Saira opened the cabin door half, pulled a three-legged wooden chair and lit a smoke. The world was generally quiet but for distant horn sounds of vehicles and an occasional hum of airplanes flying deep in the sky. Saira realised that she hasn’t felt this peaceful in that urban jungle for a long long while. For her thoughts were mired in unending replay of people’s faces, words and events all the time, day and night, night and day.
That is what I am, she thought. Stuck in a tangled mess of things even God wouldn’t know how to undo. A mess that was tucked neatly inside her own head, away from public glare.
Small birds tweeted from distances. Smoke twirled in circles.