The moment I miss the most

It's late evening and the sun is setting with fiery red and orange color. These are some of the longest days of the year. The wind is blowing, sometimes turning into a gust. Loose papers and plastic bags fly across. On hot roofs, tin cans rattle and make a distinctive clang. The wind causes swirls of dust to rise up from the parched ground. The weather is changing and it seems it's in a hurry. There is a moistness in the air and a sweet smell. It has rained somewhere nearby, it seems.

Late into the evening, children play cricket, fly kites or play marbles. And they won't stop till it's late into the dusk and difficult to see the ball or the kite or take aim. School has just started, or is about to start, but that's the least of their concern. An occasional airplane flies by in the skies, stirring in the young minds a hope and a yearning.

Evenings are spent eating ice creams and slushies and watermelons. The laughter continues on the roofs late into the night. Faint melodies of Bollywood music fill the night. It's impossible to say where the music is coming from, but it is pleasant. You sleep under the stars, spotting an occasional planet and trying to find the constellations.

Late summer, just before the monsoons, India is a magical place to be. And that evening sunset is the moment I miss the most. I'm waiting to experience the magic again, since 2004.