It was twilight by the time we left the beach and headed to cross the State border. The sea had infused a subdued sense of overwhelm. It had started raining again. This time it broke its usual routine. This time the sky broke. We were stuck in the small car, among the dense foliages and the Ghats all around, now only an irregular shape bending down at us like a giant pre-historic monster. Our driver was at the small hamlet thats being used as a make-shift cross-border check post. And we sat silently, windows rolled up, listening to the intoxicating drumming of the raindrops on the roof of the car, staring at the patterns made by the pelting waters on the frosted windsheild. Many of them leaving a winding trail as they made their way to the bigger droplets. The air outside was heavy,inside, it was heavier. All the four windows now had a thick layer of moisture, and whatever little daylight was left casted a weak bluish glow as we kept on listening to the deep rumble of the shifting clouds and pouring rain. It was almost eerie, as if we were trying to look at the world from the belly of a small blue crystal ship.
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