It’s 8AM in Behala Chowrasta- a busy four-way intersection that can seem like a mesh of intermingled traffic amidst a net of meandering people. Very recently ‘Didi’ had announced that intersections such as these had to have ‘Rabindra sangeet’ oozing out from the trumpet-shaped microphones so that it can calm peoples’ nerves. But little did she realize it did more dishonour to her favourite poet; as the words of Tagore clamoured for space with the din and bustle of the streets.

Piu, a twenty something ‘work-hater-life-lover’ walked briskly to catch her office cab. She was running few minutes late and was praying that the cab would be late too. The cab ferrying business had a strict ‘Stop-Glance-Whooosh’ policy. They would not wait for a minute if the employee is not there on time.

Piu’s thought was on the day of the week- it was just Monday! 5 days to go till she can soak herself in her Smirnoff. With lime. She did mental cartwheels knowing that her best friend Aditi would be coming from Mumbai for the weekend. And the fact that they will inevitably go to their favourite shady shade- Oly Pub, and have the juiciest red meat ever made, ever. “Ahhh!”, Piu snapped out of her ‘Walter Mitty’ mode as her shoulders collided with that of another stranger.

Usually given her fiery tempestuous nature, she would start Feminism 101 classes as she will inevitably presume that her good looks attract people to brush against her. However, she was running late and the bespectacled pot-bellied and ‘looking lost’ young gentleman was shocked out of his wits. He profusely apologised by folding his hands and watching out for ‘knights in shining armour’ to join in in the prospective verbal duel. The pedestrian ‘knights’, the auto-rickshaw ‘knights’ and the ‘aunty’ knights skipped a step, pressed the brakes and wrinkled their foreheads respectively. Piu stopped short of rage and surprising herself, leaked a smile. The ‘knights’ carried on. He smiled back, and extended his hands to shake Piu’s. Piu’s soft hands felt like cotton in his. And his palm-embrace seemed comforting to her; strangely. “What swag”, Piu thought.

The ‘would-be bhadrolok’ gently enquired about the whereabouts of the famous ‘Rabindra sweetshop’ to her. She pointed across the road where it was located and waltzed past him. She had an air of nervous excitement around her. A fleeting emotion she could not understand, nor did she try to. She felt a strange sense of affinity for this ‘lost-in-time-for-ever’ guy. How unconventionally pot-bellied. Must be one of those intellectual poet-types.

Piu finally made it to the end of the taxi-stand where her cab picks her up. To her relief, her cab-driver was in the ‘glance’ stage when she jerked open the handle of the cab. Whoooosh.

The loud speakers at the junction started playing the next song of Tagore. Something about life. And its’ myriad hues.