Whiling away the hours. Hours giving way to day that turn into months. Changing sceneries, and seasons too. One weekend turning into another and before you know it, the summer is gone. Before you realize it it’s monsoon, giving way to an inbetween season that we like to call autumn, rather pretentiously if I may so add, waiting for winter.
Calcutta winter. Probably the only time of the year Bengalis complain a little less.
But lets not digress. It’s only July, yet. There’s rain and sun and mud and overpriced taxi rides to complain about. Late afternoon naps to enjoy as it steadily rains outside. Curses muttered under your breath as you leave office, homeward bound in the pouring rain. There rum to be had, distracted online shopping to be indulged in. And there’s a lot of waiting to be done.