Walking back home

The sky is grayed out. And I'm on my way home.  A familiar feeling engulfs me. A nice soothing sensation. Reminds me of a time long forgotten. Oh I miss this feeling. The smell of fresh earth. The impending showers. The innocence of a child's play. The scent of a defined hope. 
The lines are moving at a slower pace. People and vehicles intersecting the race. A long way from home I watch this happen. I'm not in any hurry today. This scattering of lives interests me somehow. The dusty old trees go past. Everything seems to slow down.

Everybody seems to be going somewhere. Not a soul standing still. I look at their faces and find an unusual calmness. Even the wild cows of the city and the stray dogs seem to resonate this tranquility  Can a simple drop in temperature or the darkening of the sky be the reason? I wonder.

I am going back the same way I had come. But feels like a different route. The familiarity is lost. I just passed by a playground.  The walls painted with bright colours. Celebrity sportsmen full of colours. The finer details missed.
My bus has stopped at a makeshift market place. A market place and a traffic signal. One maybe the reason for another. Together they exist in harmony.

I am beginning to believe that my bus driver doesn't share my same sense of calmness. While I navigate through my thoughts at a deliberately slower pace, he's rushing through a narrow Street.

Wish I could write down exactly how I am perceiving this evening. Not everything. Just when my surroundings seemed beautiful i see a man relieving himself. Sometimes life just ruins a perfect setting through small imperfections. Again I wonder if perfection is a myth.

Movie posters adorn every wall that has no threatening prosecution messages. The people in nation have something against following the law. We have all broken it sometime or the other. And not once maybe a million times. Maybe we're programmed to do otherwise. I wish we do better.

The heavy lunch doesn't seem to be agreeing with the philosophies of my stomach. And yes my bus driver is a professional racer. This ride is looking more like a part time job for him.

I am almost home. The final stretch remains. This was an interesting ride. Something different from the usual.  The weekend is here. The hopeful two days of freedom. How is this going to be different from the last? How am i saving the world this time around? Let's find out then.

Thank you for listening.