Malai pozhudhin

The radio crackles to life around 4 pm. It’s a hot afternoon and the clouds are teasing you with a few drops of rain that unlock the humidity instead of cooling the city. At home, they’ve asked you to go and buy some tea sachets from a shop close-by. You can protest but you have to end up going anyway, besides you are not doing anything meaningful like work, so you leave reluctantly, because you want to listen to this song that has just come on. You manage to catch bits of the song along the way from different radio sets playing the same station. On the way, you see your friend coming from the ration shop, you say a quick hello and notice a bunch of oily-faced kids returning from school, with school bags on their back, swinging their lunch box. At the shop, the evening newspapers are already out, you can see the front page news on sheets clipped to a rope under the counter. Not much crowd at the shop, so you buy your sachets and walk back. The maid has come and she is washing the dishes. You will go out later to see your friends and watch some pretty girls go by from college. A brief respite from an otherwise dull evening. The song is over now.