The Communal Conversation

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I really can’t forget that evening, cool breeze and gratifying petrichor oozing out of the hungry soil. I felt euphoric, my hair seemed to perform some brilliant salsa number but yes, as told, it was evening and was getting darker every minute. I couldn’t afford to drench myself in the drizzle. “I have to rush to home!” I said to myself. My exhilaration had to be self-guarded. I waved hands to every auto rickshaw that came my way but they were over stacked with people squeezing in close together. Getting into such an auto rickshaw would have been only a reason for discomfort and displeasure. Alas! I waited and waited. The same evening draught was getting irritable. After like ten minutes or so I managed to get a not-so-crowded auto rickshaw. I sighed with relief. As I took a seat I heard the auto rickshaw driver and the man sitting next to him engrossed in some petty conversation. I was least interested to hear to them. I looked outside the auto and made every possible attempt to breathe in the cold and moist air. All of a sudden I heard a loud uproar of laughter by the two, the auto rickshaw driver and the passenger next to him. They seemed to enjoy the ride much more than I was enjoying the weather. Notoriously, I drew my attention to their dialogue. Not that I find eaves dropping irresistible but I somehow felt their conversation was more interesting than what I had indulged in. Continue reading