Friday

Friday.

Time for change.

When a million people leave behind their drab whites, lipid lily coloured shirts, dark pants and spring for change. Red shirts make their appearance. Girls who till today decided to preserve an extreme ethinicity by only wearing salwar, decide to wear t-shirts, jeans, pants, tops, and the odd dab of lipstick.

Friday.

Time for change.

Men appear in their t-shirts. Black with the casual monogram on their chest. Emblazoned. Adidas, Reebok, the inverted Boomerang. Faded Blue Jeans. Flying Machine is of course hep. Black belts, and spotless white sneakers. They have never been run in. Sports watches sport on the forearms that till day bore only the steel metal of Tag Heurs, or the leather straps of Titan. Chests are highers, and so are spirits. More laughter, a relaxation, a casualness.

Friday.

A time for change.

A more gracious spurt of the accelerator, on the bikes. More smiles, more plans, more dreams. For two days. Brief reprieve, for fun. For dreams. for belief. A stretching of the neck, a relaxed lunch hour. Days draw to a close. A visit. Excitement. Talk to clients. Goodbyes said.

Friday.

A time for change.


Forms filled, goodbyes said, plans made, parties fed, a spurt. to start off two days that have mysteriously appeared, like good fortune. movies dreamt of, cassetes listened. Stretching of arms, and even of legs. Ice creams eaten, a concept of fun. Pizzas ever more, so too idlis and dosas. Shopping done. Then a warm bed.

Friday.

A time for change

To sleep, to dream, to have, to be. to change.


Friday.

A time for change