FRIDAY NIGHTS

Every day of the work week 

Is subsumed into one coveted 

evening. Will it be wine or G&T, 

you ask. We raise a toast from 

our seats, comfortably apart. 

Like spices in hot weather, 

proximity is good in moderation. 

Some evenings match your wine 

in smoothness. Boys navigate muddy 

fields and perplexing political knots. 

Ducks in Kerala's backwaters talk to 

an old man and his grandson. 

A lawyer pieces together evidence 

scraps to forge a tenuous figurine 

of Justice. The resourcefulness of our 

phones is recognized every week 

on  this evening, when it launches 

the box office for us. There are days 

when we meet with harsh fortune. 

Ten minutes of one film, seven scenes 

of another and the laziness of raucous, 

ill-lit bars opening a film later, we're 

consumed. Tired of the torpid 

sampling, we turn to the inevitability 

of black-and-white Hindi film songs. 

Monumental nostalgia and honest 

lawyers (I swear!) are nice, but like 

the sweaty unsavouriness of close 

proximity, the monotony of perpetual 

celebration can deplete a weekend

opener’s (thank god it’s) Friday-ness.