Out with the chilled, conditioned air. In with the 112-degree wall of heat.
In with the smell of the ganda nala, the aroma of street food being cooked in the bazaar. The buzzing motors of rickshaws and motorbikes and the hooves of donkeys. The splashing and laughter of children playing in the canal. The azhan echoing from a dozen different minarets in a dozen different keys.
When people here are at home, they hide behind walls. When they go out, they hide behind windows.
It’s a completely different city without the barriers.