Raindrops slid towards the bent elbow from where they dropped in a continuous thread. A palm was cupped in a frail attempt to catch them.

Later, zephyrs of cool wind blew into the face. Snatches of the rain smell could be sensed. Carrying along minute particles of dust which made into the eye despite it being guarded. The blue flame fuelled by gas danced wildly beneath the heavy iron pan. As chapathis were baked on it. A step back was taken to avoid the fire lest the cotton clothes also burned.