I looked down to my cramped legs. The faded jeans I wore sparkled under an unrelenting sun. The rays felt like thousands of hot needle pricks from which I had absolutely no respite. They could pierce through even blocks of ice. I shuffled my arms once more. Just like I had done the last hundred times since morning, to find them a cool shelter.
The weather was like a vaccum for any moisture. All of it was sucked in. Without perspiration, my skin began to crack up. Like the farm lands under drought. I looked around at my passengers. Everyone was nodding off but just like mine, their faces too looked mildly toasted. Energy was no longer just slowly leaking. It was rapidly evaporating.
I cast my eyes out to scan the landscape. I might as well have been not moving at all. The scenery never changed. The same infinite span of desert-like shrubs and golden hues. Electricity lines running on both sides, interrupted every now and then by a transmission tower that looked just like the one following it. And the one following after. Not a single animal or bird in sight. No human daring (stupid?) enough to challenge the punishing sun. Black roads looked white. White paddy warehouse floors looked silver, almost glass-like.
Just as the contrast of the motion of our jeep against the monotony outside was being wondered upon, something struck our jeep with a loud thump. Loud and strong enough to cause the jeep to jerk midly. We all turned around to look back. A stork lay belly-up on the otherwise unblemished stretch of tar. It lay still as a rock. It was dead. We muttered the usual murmurances, each of us conjecturing on the causes for what was a disturbing sight. We drove on.
I shuffled my arms once more and winced. It was that kind of a day.