The neighbours, colour-blindedly, have painted their half of the two-storey apartment the most hideous pink ever invented. Yes. It means that while one half is this disgusting colour, the other has an ever-peeling-off white-washed contrasting look. Beauty. Not to mention that one side of the ever-peeling white-washed first storey apartment has an ever-peeling yellow colour. In between the upper and lower atrociousness is a tide-ad-like white strip that was actually painted to cover up the previous appalling florescent blue colour. Well, the blue still peeps out of the large gaps left while painting the white. You get the picture. I hate it.
Diwali.
Olfactory senses: fresh paint, varnish, burnt crackers, burnt food (which is a result of endless discussions on festive proceedings with neighbours/friends/family), new clothes, floor disinfectants, insect repellers etc.
Auditory senses : Bursting crackers. Crackling oil. Blaring Bhajans in Jagarans. Squealing babies. Roaring children. Bellowing parents.
Gustatory senses: Glutton delight time.
Visual senses: Polychromatic spectacle. Name the colour. People buy it. Wear it. Jewellery. People buy. It pokes. People still wear it.
My sixth sense tells me that I have lost control of all my senses and that I should retire.
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