Thursday -- 06 Safar 1426 -- 26 Phalguna 1926 -- 17 March 2005

Spring is over. Summer has arrived. A strong, warm, humid sea breeze blows across the face of the city by the Arabian Sea and gives the city a flavour, a texture, a feeling, an emotion. All so characteristic of Karachi in the summers. The Mango trees bloom.

The evenings come with tea drinking sessions on the terrace cooled by the strong, warm, humid evening gusts of wind. The nights come with late night discussions under the starry sky cooled by strong, cool, humid gusts of wind.

The fans are turned on full. Every fan with its characteristic sound and noise. Churning out a cool breeze. A feeling of cooling accompanied with a certain sound, a certain temprature, a certain smell. My companion, the fan in my room. It is what to me means summers.

The wonderful smell of the flowers of the Raat ki Rani, which grows right outside my window. The scent that it carries from my window through the whole house. That wonderous, seductive, enchanting, magical smell. The smell of a lover. The smell of summer.

Oh, yes, summers have arrived. And, as is the case, everytime the weather changes, memories flood in, of the same change, in bygone ages, at college, at school and at work. Every change, from year to year, where I was, what I was, who I was. All come back flooding to me.


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