Voyeur's delight?

There is a distinct smell of hot dust, each house in this tiny locality looks uglier than the other, the coolers sit like warts on the building surfaces. An anthill of humanity, these 1+1 houses, a trade mark of Dilli, each with a limited view as thousands of tapped wires criss cross slicing the sky, the sparrows fly past weaving their way like fighter pilots past huge laser beams.

The young kuddi stands preening to catch the eye of the one she loves, timing it carefully as he moves out on his rajdoot , the blinding pink salwar kurta clad aunty stands yonder in the second building-first balcony keeping her eye fixed on this non verbal exchange, a juicy piece of gossip, something to tide her by her fellow fat league's sorrows of lazy husbands and naughty kids.

The oily haired kid stands marking out his cricket playing territory in the galli squeezed between ugly structures. He holds a bat as tall as him, looking up at the frowning woman wondering if he should ask her if 'Bunty' could come out and play, "Its only four 'o clock! Auntiji!"

The young man stops the bike near the kid, wondering if he could play a quick game, he feels the girl's eyes on him, he turns around and flashes her a lassi-white smile, she blushes and he swerves the bike away into the golden sunset lined with two cows crossing.
A neat circle. A quiet conversation, join the dots this is just one network among the millions of silent conversations..lost.