If I left work on time, then as the auto-rickshaw climbed the upslope of the Milan Road Over-bridge on its way to Khar West, I would catch the last of the sun. An orange ball, its glare tamed by the evening hour, bobbing in and out of buildings, sending out long fingers of warmth and light. Catching a tired looking plant on a balcony and bathing it in a warm glow or appearing suddenly on the opposite side of the road, reflected on a window pane. From near the top of the over-bridge, if the time was right, it felt like it was setting in an ocean of grey. It was just an opening in the concrete structures blending into each other, but it seemed to create an illusion in my tired mind. In reality, the sea was some distance away and invisible. But if I shut my eyes, I could feel a breeze on my face that had been touched by the sea, mixed with the smell of sweat and grime and the black smoke from the cars. And this was my time - my time to watch the sunset before it really sank into the sea at Juhu Beach. My time of being neither at work nor at home, of just being a rickshaw person with rickshaw thoughts that no one else need ever know!
I remember this one ❤️❤️