She is like an ocean. Sometimes it is calm, at others it is very violent. Its waves can smash the ships riding on it to bits. During tides, it brings invaluable bounties to the shores. Sometimes the waves splash against the shore and empty their anger against the shore.
But one thing is there that is constant, the undercurrents, the storms and streams running unnoticed beneath all this in the deep. She has many unfulfilled desires. Her desires from the youth has not been doused. Passion lies latent like the molten Lava inside the folds of earth which when bursts the earth shakes and trembles. She years constantly for someone who will come and pacify those passions. There are social taboos and she has suppressed her desires for so long, kept them under control.
No, I should not call it a foggy morning, because it is not the fog but smog which descends on the earth during these days of the year. The monsoon has ebbed and except for an occasional shower there are no rains. The weather has become muggy and suffocating. It is not clear and there is a lot of heat accumulating over the earth. A pall of heat covers the earth.
There is lot of humidity and when the night become clear, in the mornings with the drop of temperature, smog begins to form. In fact it was so dense today that nothing was visible even a short distance away. The moving figures look like wraiths, suddenly appearing and disappearing round the corners. Fog seems to be floating here and there, over the tree tops, inside the boughs, hovering over the buildings making them appear and disappear now and then.
The tree drip the water which is condensing on the leaves and coalesce to become drops heavy enough to stay up and fall on to the earth. It seems that the trees are weeping but why or for what is not known only to them. It is the school time. Children in their uniforms, unwillingness on their faces prod towards the building called school. Some come on vehicles like buses from far off places, other riding with their parents who have great hopes for the bright future of their children, and others who live in the colony on feet.
Walking in this scene looks as if one is walking a dream. Other figures seem to be gliding like particle in a colloid. Whenever there is a wisp of air, the fog seem to be shifting places sometimes giving way to the sun rays. The rays look like shafts or threads of silk. As the day progresses, the mist begins to thin away and completely disappear by the time most people wake up. They even don’t know that when they were asleep, this magical phenomenon was unfolding outside their home.