The clock lazily pointed to 10:30 when I finally opened my eyes. He was still lost in the depths of yesterday’s exhaustion under the fan’s dull whirl. I nudged him awake, and after the classic few minutes of bed-crawling and silent groaning, we managed to drag ourselves up. Teeth brushed, faces splashed—our minds were still waking up, but our stomachs were already one step ahead. We decided to head out for breakfast at a well-known spot in Jodhpur, famous for its samosas and morning snacks.

Not bothering with much effort, we stepped out in our pajamas and T-shirts—fully embracing the sleepy tourist look—and made our way to the shop. The sky was a moody grey, clouds covering the sun like a lazy blanket. It wasn’t raining, but the air was heavy, clinging to the skin with sticky humidity. Through the city traffic, we finally reached our destination. The place was buzzing—college students on tight schedules, office workers grabbing quick bites, and the early hustlers squeezing in breakfast before their real day began. It was a compact joint; you paid at the counter, picked up your plate, and either stood outside or grabbed a spot at the small sitting area nearby. We had our fill, exchanged a few half-awake comments, and left the place as quickly as we arrived.

We were home again, half-ready, half-lost in that post-dinner laziness where time slips between fingers like sand. Phones buzzed beside us, some small talk floated here and there, but the vibe was dull. Eventually, an hour in, we looked at each other and knew—this wasn’t it. Scrolling aimlessly in silence felt like a waste, so we decided to head out. Anything would be better than melting into the couch.

Not too far from home, we stumbled upon a mall—not the grand, glass-ceiling kind, but one of those modest spots with just enough to tempt you. Three stores and a cinema. Simple. We walked into Westside with the classic plan of just “looking around” to kill some time before heading to the actual place we had in mind. But the moment we reached the men’s section, it was over. The calm, composed version of me lost the battle to the voice in my head that whispered, “Try it, just try it…” Clothes started piling in my hands like they had a life of their own. I resisted. I even gave myself a pep talk mid-aisle. But eventually, my wallet gave in to my willpower’s betrayal. A few minutes later, I was walking out with a bag and a shaken budget.