so i wrote

This writing is pure fiction. The city is fictitious, the tourists, the office goers too are fictitious, so are the animals and yes, if you conclude that the writer wasted your precious time by feeding you common knowledge, then the writer too is fictitious.

…so one fine day I woke up and simply decided to become more outwardly aware than being my usual inwardly thoughtful self. As I sipped on my early morning tea and stepped out to catch the bus to work, my thoughts were suddenly taken to the street that I was walking on. Recently refurbished, the street seemed to make the locality appear upgraded to a newer version. Some thoughts on how our street lives its day…


Early morning rush and the pounding of all types of shoewear on it make it lose some of its sheen. But our street is defiant and very bravely houses those very shoe shops beside it. Its cold today and while office goers wear all types of winter wear, our street is out there, braving the chill, accepting whatever is thrown at it in the form of chocolate wrappers and such stuff otherwise destined for the ‘use-me’s.


With all the working folk settled at their comfortable office desks, it is now the turn of some road rolling activity. There is that odd patch of our street that needs attention before it spirals further. Not to forget the cable laying activity going on for the past 6 months for one reason or the other. Courier vans and vendors zoom past as the sun shines brightly over our street.


and with the evening, comes frenzy in the form of tourists, vendors, students, workers returning in their vehicles, joggers, even aimless people walking to where the street takes them. The street takes them all with their peculiarities.


finally there is darkness and the stage is set for stray dog showdowns where old timers settle there scores and mark their domains with no negotiations – the one that barks most vividly is the one who wins.


As i sign off for the day and doze off to sleep, I’m woken up by the occasional sounds of barking, of the drunkard screaming for a better tomorrow, of the night watchman’s patrol, of some sounds that cannot be categorized, but the street? This friend of standard & poor’s alike is off to sleep as well, giving support to the homeless.


Morning comes with its own refreshments and as I brush my teeth, the sweeper wipes the street off all the forgetful events of yesterday.


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