Lovely Twenty-Four.

Diwali eve. Saw this lady, not-so-well-to-do, if you know what I mean. Her entire head was bandaged. I imagine she has a family. A son, or two, and a husband. Will they burn crackers, I wonder.
A winter afternoon. A sun, blood red. No, it's not exactly a setting sun. It was glaring bright enough. But it was red. And I stared into it till it became blue, due to some-god-knows-what phenomenon that always happens when you stare into the sun. After a while, I look at the sun again, but this time, not exactly at it. I see it's reflection, doubled in size, on the glass panes of a huge building.
I didn't take it out. It was in my bag. The camera, I mean.
A morning, that starts with a hangover. And a confusion about what happened last. Amidst all the confusion, there is one thing constant. I'm looking for the cellphone.
A night, that follows a wish-this-lasted-forever-evening. Happily drunk. Top-of-the-world. Or no, wait, the world stopped existing. Careless behavior, as a result.
Thank you life, for all the variety.
Only if you could get my head rid of migraine, I could have worked tonight. And paid you back for the last twenty-four hours.

Someone said this to me and Sayak, today.
"Why are you both walking like old men? Slowly, pausing after every step, as if you're contemplating every step?"
I did not reply aloud.
I was not contemplating every step.