The rhythmic beats of the autorickshaw cut through the noisy wind. He stood at the door watching the brown leaves litter the tiled courtyard. I sat at the settee watching his smooth silver hair fluttering in the breeze.
He was exceptionally quiet this day. His wrist-watch wore a green strap, the same one he had worn earlier to the city. Strange. He was the kind who'd change watches the way we changed clothes - one for the weddings/parties, one for the casual outings, one for home wear, one for the nights, and so on. What was stranger was how his otherwise packed schedule seemed to include ample time for mulling and staring aimlessly at the courtyard.