The Bong Summer

     In this city of joy, one can so far say that even the winds seem to admire us. Broken window, tall trees, small shades by the century-old tree, every object makes us fall in love with our city. You have always been here for us. Such true and pure this love is. The spring this year brought a lot of unexpected summers. With summer came the heat. Everyone in the city could not talk about anything else except for the burning sun. The scorching heat sucked the sheer life out of the city dwellers and daily office workers, college students. A mandatory umbrella and water bottle became life support in our daily battle. Our smartphones shocked us with the weather updates while it soared from 37 degrees to 42 degrees. Some phones even displayed warnings about ‘Ultraviolet rays exposure. Do not stay in the sun for too long.’ The streets in midday seemed like a deserted battlefield. The trees remained quiet. The leaves obeyed their mother. No hustle, no bustle. Birds appeared less as the hour drew closer to noon. In search of water, many dropped from the sky, parched and in stroke. So I kept a few tumblers of water in the roof of my building. Girls fearing tan covered themselves from head to toe, and boys avoided the game of football because it was more comforting to sit under the fan and browse the net via their phones. However, a group of people blessed the sun in every way possible. The people who sold water. Trains, railway stations, bus stands, pan shop, were filled with the men who took advantage of the sweating warriors of dutiful men. Ten rupees per bottle seemed so less compared to the tired eyes and parched mouth of the guardians of the small children who were waiting for the school hours to end. The cucumber seller seemed the busiest person, peeling his delicious watery fruit slash vegetable. The man selling raw mangoes also seemed to get much attention from the ladies who like it sour. The appeal to add extra ‘jhaal lobon’ was the best part of the day for the young schoolgirl returning home from school at 2 pm in the afternoon. She munched on the fruit and was glad she saved some money for the next day.

     The rumoured summer vacation which was not supposed to start until the second week of May was received positively but was feared by few. Now, the bottle seller remained alone near the deserted school gate. The cucumber and the mango seller contemplated their early childhood days when the days were simpler. They would stare at the customers who were blaming the sun for shining, but these days the vacation left his business dull. The summer breeze blows against the dirt and nostalgia struck them. The local temple beggar found a cool shade for his regular nap. ‘Do the gods ever feel the burn of the ungodly sun?’, thought the beggar.