On a bright sunny day, standing in the middle of an endless queue of vehicles, which waits patiently in a zigzag manner at the traffic signal on a BRT corridor, can become very unnerving for a biker who doesn't have any way to escape the wrath of nature's fury. His eyes get tired looking at the light which doesn't show any sign of turning green, his skin smells of roasted human meat, his head pounds every time some one honks at his back or ahead of him, he can feel sweat buds which grows on his skin before slipping down and he can almost hear and count the sounds of his heart beat under his skin.
Those two minutes seems like two hours because time slows down then and the images which he sees in front of his eyes unfolds in almost a languid pace. His tired eyes veers to the different faces, moments and incidents that happens around him. Its like his eyes captures different camera frames of the slice of life and tries to find meaning in them. Sometimes, he observes the sudden gust of breeze that brushes the dust from the streets, makes it spiral in the air, before slapping past him.
Once in a while, he steals a look at the traffic light in anticipation before sinking back to his helpless state of mind. He peeps inside the four wheelers and three-wheelers, scanning the different faces and their indulgence in this two minutes of leisure. Sometimes he feels envy, and sometimes feels pity and sometimes a sense of stoicism is all he feels. He lets his thoughts take wings, as they float languidly around him.
A sense of commotion breaks his reverie, his thoughts are cut short and are brought to the ground as quickly as they had taken wings. The moment the light turns green, as if a sort-of energy runs through the vehicles and humans alike, connecting each other and waking them up from a stupor. Life kick starts once again and serpentines through the roads in top-gear, living behind a mirage which will soon be lost in the depth of the myriad of conscious.
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