da da da da...duh!!!

its morning half passed five. everyone's asleep. i just made some red tea. i added a cinnamon bark to it. i like it sugarless. i slide the terrace door and gingerly step out on the terrace. i breathe in the wet morning. the lazy "aama miah" rain in hyderabad is so refreshing. the money plant needs some pruning and i can only half heartedly blame my procastination. its so not in my list of things to be honest. i sip my tea and lean across the railing. in B603 i see Mrs Upadhyay. Bunned. Saree carelessly draped and a red bindi. the bengali shakha. in her 60's .lean and hard. she sits on the white garden chair, sipping her tea too. looking through the thick famed glasses. i guess the servant boy is not more than 12. he gets her something in a bowl. i see her setting it down on the little table hidden behind the unkempt foliage of her terrace. then she does something that enraptures me. a very normal act but magical. she un-buns her hair, loosens them, lets them lazily fall and cascade down. from this distance i cant see the grey strands, but i have seen her strolling around the apartment complex. there are ample greys. she dips her finger tips into the bowl and gently runs through her scalp. she oils her hair slowly. deliberately. my tea is finished. i need to go in as the day beckons me. i just found the whole act soothing. very different from my quick ministrations.