I’m standing on the beach facing the Arabian sea. A group of twenty men and boys celebrate raucously, the winning goal has been scored. Thunder rumbles in the distance. A storm is brewing.
Palms fronds lean to in the rising breeze. Waves crash, roll in, pull back, repeat with mesmeric regularity. The sky is a whirl of colour hewn of solid grey rock; golden light seeps through the dense weight to crown the jungle behind; pink swirls lick the fluffy white clouds interspersing the blue void.
Dozens of people pass by. Walkers, joggers, swimmers; they’re all here for sunset. Dogs gather in a vast pack of familiar cousins, same shape, shade and slink. An excitable flock of birds swoop acoss the sky in loose v formation, monsoon is coming, it’s time to fly.
The tension is growing. Is it ever going to rain? The sun sets bright orange into the mirrored waters. Reflections leading right to my feet in the shallows of the rocks. Sand between my toes. Dusk.