Someone in my aural vicinity is playing a keyboard discordantly, with absolutely no regard for the rules of rhythm or tonality. At first, it carried resonances of some of John Cage's compositions, with elements of harp-like flourishes thrown in for good measure, before assuming the logic of randomness. Intermittently, the mynas continue to screech. When they pause, momentarily, a crow chimes in, or that elusive bird I can never spot whistles melodically.

It is the most unusual May I've ever encountered in the ten years I've lived in Delhi. It will soon be high noon, and yet, it is so pleasant the fan doesn't need to be on full speed. I rely on the air conditioning only for a few hours in the evening, to cool down my second-floor apartment before we fall asleep.