“Rains”, she thinks, looking out of the window, as the city scene passes her by at twenty four frames per second. The bus weaves through crowded streets, making its way to the final bus stop now, a few final passengers waiting to get off. It creakes and clanks through scorched potholes and dusty neighborhoods filled with sun burnt, sweaty people. She sits on the window seat, still looking out, with just one single thought crowding her head; Rain.
The summer heat is finally driving her up the wall. The summer in this country is supposed to last longer than most places. This city, especially, has to face the season a lot longer, thanks to all the pollution, chopped down trees, messed up weather balance and what not. As a result, the city has been smoldering. The pitch on the edges of the road is starting to turn squelchy and sticking to the soles of the hapless pedestrians, refusing to let go like a long forgotten breakup. All the ‘metal’; the railings, vehicle skeletons, fences, steering columns, can hardly be touched, without scalding your palm. The tempers are flaring too. She almost has had a couple of altercations in the day and is hoping she wouldn’t be pushed to the edge.
A man looks at her through the window. He is sun burnt, to the point of an ill fated cookie. He stands there looking at her, wearing a pair of worn down shorts and a vest with a sprinkling of holes of assorted sizes. He is staring right at her, and she doesn’t know what to do. He continues staring till the bus passes out of his line of sight. She knows he still stands there, sunburnt, sweat on his forehead, frizzle haired, barefoot. She doesn’t feel agitated anymore; she only feels sorry.
She is still thinking about the word, but now her thoughts are a lot more…tangible. They are almost like a real thing; throbbing, rotating, twisting and turning like a kaleidoscope mural. She looks up to see the sky slowly take on a leaden look. A soft wind, almost secretive, slowly begins to blow, stirring the leaves and other strewn debris into little circles of dancing dust. A few more passengers get off, while the last of the bunch look up at the sky with a marked expression of relief.
Her stop is now approaching. Silent streaks of lightning are tearing across the skies. A few lazy potbellied drops of rain start falling, kicking up microscopic swirls of parched earth. She has a little smile playing on her lips now. She gets off the bus and heads to her apartment. She is standing in front of her door now. She looks back for one final time. “Rain!” she shouts and gets in, closing the door behind her, as the rains come streaming down, washing the summers away for another year.
[Written as an application to the sultry summers, hoping that they get the cue.]