laughter heaven

opposite joggers park in bandra, a bounded garden for people to run around in shorts and track pants in, is this, covered in blue tarpaulin and bamboo like its a beached boat from the fishing village nearby.
granite clad posts keep out those who dare not laugh in the 'ho ha ho' prescribed by the gateway. in the afternoon the begonias and shrubbery laugh while me and the other 4 o'clock street inhabitants, watchmen and chauffeurs, huddle under the shade of the few trees over the parking lot accompanied by the smell of urine and ocean.