The heat at Kolkata is killing. Anyone not inside an A/c room is walking around with a film of sweat on themselves and cursing any one and any thing.
The heat is causing madness. Tempers are frayed.Traffic accidents have increased. Domestic warfare has reached a crescendo. People dont talk to each other...they just growl.
At work we crouch at our work stations and snarl every time the boss says that a branch has to be visited "NOW". Mr boss is a wily chap, he never moves out of his A/c comfort zone...why should he when he has me poor minion to run around like a mad dog in the mid-day sun from one end of the city to the other.
To top it all, we have people taking leave for days and going off to Darjeeling/Gangtok/etc etc. Whilst we poor sould tug their share of the burden too.
Yet there is a perverse pleasure in seeing their sweaty faces once they are back in the jungle.
I miss my home in the hills. The old colonial bungalow with a thatch roof which looked on to the Kanchanjunga and the garden and the vegetable plot and the smell of fresh green tea leaves as they were plicked from the bushes and above all the pleasant weather and peaceful surroundings.
How I wish that time had stood still and all these trappings of being a grown up had not been foisted upon me and I could return to being a school girl on holiday at home sitting out in the verandah, looking out at the hills and reading an Agatha Christie Novel.
While I am it, this is something like the view which I had from the bungalow in Darjeeling :