Rain drops

"It's always like this. The World Cup takes four long years to come and is off again after four of the shortest weeks of your life", writes the Sports Editor of our newspaper on the eve of the finals. He signs off saying, "...just to watch some magic and fireworks before life returns to normal and the world returns to being flat." I wonder what it feels like to have a job that's woven around such strong passions. Recently, I was reading another article in the paper where it said, that the moment you eliminate the importance of results from what you do, work changes into play. Now this is very basic for most people who lay stress upon living. But if you are expected to churn out articles covering a couple of pages in the sports section each day within a given deadline, does it threaten to intrude upon the strong passions, and perhaps dissolve some of them, though temporarily? But all said, I enjoyed reading most of his had to say. No surprise that he turned out to be a Bengali. That's the one part of the country that does prefer football over cricket, as recent television ratings suggested.

After last night's final, there was hardly any sleep to gear up for today. Don't want my more reasonable deadlines to be affected, so went through the motions and got some stuff done. Heavy clouds spattered the sky as I was on my way back and it suddenly got dark. I decided not to take the bait, so reached home nonchalantly.

And then it rained. Heavier than I had seen here before. And from the unlikeliest directions. Strong winds sliced through them. Everything around dissolved. And people ran out and danced.

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