I spent an hour in a cafe in a cutesy bakery cum cafe, with a brand new decor which reflected aspirational modernity that seemed out of place in the forlorn environment, abutting the listless, arterial national highway, as heavy rains were lashing outside. A necessary halt.

The image captures a moment of break in the rains. Surreal for the mix of late evening, gathering clouds, the interlocked paver block parking lot that ends at the covered parking, and right across, a green field in between the cafe and the bridge that passes diagonally across the field.

And then you had the Indian lapwing dancing around, when it's supposed to be already gone, being more of a harbinger of rains and strutting around the parking floors, as a couple looking deeply in love got drenched and ran for cover as we had coffee and sandwiches, biding our time for the rain to slow down and ease the drive ahead on the highway, and an aged guy honked his car and asked the waiter for, of all things, Maggi noodles, and we suddenly seemed more mature and settled in our taste then we assumed ourselves to be.

While leaving I captured the image of the empty table and chairs and their lengthening shadows surrounding the space in the artificial light that seemed to highlight the isolation of the spot. A metaphor for a time that stands still like in an Edward Hopper painting. But unlike his diner here there isn't any human presence to redeem it.