Nameless

So there was this grand ISKON procession crawling right in front of me, and I was busy thinking how much the auto-wallah looked like someone i knew, someone long forgotten. There were white-skinned people dressed in orange dhotis and serene white kurtas distributing peanuts as prasad, there were trucks full of yogis doling out steel glasses filled with holy water that people lapped up, drank furtively and washed their faces with. The chanting was almost reaching this sort of a climax, a crescendo with the dust and heat and flies and the impatience of the fucking traffic jam and suddenly, I had a feeling that there is going to be a bomb blast.

I saw myself fly right up into the sky, my chest burning, my limbs on fire and my hair sort of swooning to this hum that was constant in my ears. I felt peace. That is, until I landed with shards of glass right in front of this car showroom. I landed right in front of this big white car which smelled good. I landed with a thud and the sound of shattering glass. I looked up into the smoky sky. After three seconds, the auto-wallah with a face worth remembering landed right next to me. He was definitely teary-eyed. And the sky was definitely orange and smoky gray. My eyes were burning so I shut them. Outside, I could hear screeches replace the constant hum. Women wailing with all the force that is left in their system and children shouting out of pain and uncertainty. From behind, my auto-wallah hugged me tight to keep us still. He started whispering something into my ears. Words from a prayer, perhaps.

Then I opened my eyes to see the auto-wallah staring at me in the rear-view mirror. "Kya timepass hai", he murmured, half to himself and half to cover up for the blatant stare. I decided to get off and walk. He seemed quite relieved. I paid him the money, crossed the road , started chewing the peanuts and headed home. I was home in no time.