Shakespeare is dead

The man slept with his slippers under his head. Probably had had an experience earlier when during his sleep, someone had run away with them. The flies, the dirt, even the occasional rumbling of the auto-rickshaw, or the harried sounds of a busy street did-not disrupt his slumber. But, he was going to wake up in a way he had never woken up before. Just that he did-not know it yet. The flies buzzed around his scruffy head in non-geometric circles, creating an aural halo around. His hand stirred, slumped and then , stirred again. But he was going to wake up in a way that he had never woken before. Just that he did not know it yet. It had been a peaceful night as compared to the day, with the mosquitoes feasting quietly on him and leaving, without making a fuss. It had been a late night at work and sleep had come at a premium, after much haggling with the demons of the day.

The clouds were dripping wet. Inside, Shaan squatted, balancing precariously on the tips of his toes as he leaned away from the bright green umbrella, peering at the first row of books from the bottom. And then they came crashing down. The rain and thunder in a badly orchestrated mix, pounded at the glass window next to him, threatening to break in....(to be continued)