The air conditioning is roaring on full… has been for the last two and a half hours. Outside the Bombay monsoon is raging. Your windows rattle and shudder every few minutes when a gust of rain-laden wind crash into your building.
You, however, are still cooking. Your palms are cold and pale. You can actually feel your chest pounding. Your eyes the size of saucers, your lips crushed together into thin lines. Your jaws bite and relax every few minutes. The rest of your body is perfectly still. Next to you Fungus lays stomach down corpse-like on the floor, his chin on the cold mosaic flooring.
Fungus has his palms across his face. He looks at the TV screen through the gaps between his fingers. He too is still and silent.
Sidin plays out a tension filled, nerve jangling England-Brazil World Cup final in his head. Boy, what an imagination !
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