Back when my grandfather was young enough to have black hair and women carried long-handled handbags as staples instead of fashion necessities, there was an afternoon when the sky looked like the underside of a mattress due to strangely shaped grey clouds hanging off it, and then a fish jumped out of the pond in the village at much the same time as another one dropped out of nowhere onto the front porch. People remember this. Then everyone gathered around a radio and switched it on and realised the import of things in general; free soil was ten years old.

There are four articles on Kashmir on the same page today and maaa-aaa-aaaa-aaaataram on loudspeakers outside, it's a day after Hungover Saturday and there's no breakfast because the folks have gone to watch the children's fancy dress competition. Much running around. FM's playing des mera now that it's part of Peepli Live. Stop train pull chain notwithstanding, hello hello, if you're thinking what I'm thinking throw your cap to the ground and kneel. The sun's out now, thassall folks. Got the atmosphere right at seven am, though.