It is 07:00 pm. Tomorrow will be Sunday. Monday will be a holiday for Holi — the festival of colours.
Colour is missing from the roads.
Roads that are normally choked with cars are almost empty. People who jostle for space to walk are not to be seen. The parks and beaches are closed off.
Black, tarred roads, dull buildings and grey smoke envelopes the city.
The air is heavy and solemn, as if waiting for its time to come. It mirrors the line outside the country liquor shop, orderly and somber.
Some people will try to drown out the festival of colours. Makes sense too.
Anything to make these pandaysmic pass.