Early office goers whizzed past in gleaming cars while red-hued buses moved at a more sedate pace, on meandering roads already buzzing with the day’s activity. The city was catching up swiftly with its daily rhythm of life. Suddenly, a loud rumbling that seemed to come right out of the bowels of the earth jolted the citizenry – snatching them rudely out of their predictable dullness. I felt the tremor go right through me. What was a soft breeze a few minutes ago roared into a gale. A blast of wind hit my face followed by another jarring tremor. The rumbling grew louder, and skyscrapers picked up the vibrations from the earth. Cracks and fissures appeared on walls and facades, running across buildings much like streaks of lightning ripping across the sky. Streets began to shake, and tall buildings tottered on their base.

I was pulled toward one side, then the other, see-sawing and pitching back and forth like a rag doll in Godzilla’s hands. Rubble careened towards me, I could feel it against my legs. Toppled cars and buses came crashing, heading my way and I steeled myself for head on collisions. But at the very last moment I escaped the impact. A blinding light is all I had to endure. The same, with massive chunks of concrete and glass hurling towards me – no impact, only a blinding flash of light. Water, possibly from a ruptured tank on some building, came cascading down, but I got only a shower that hardly drenched my clothes. No, I’m not in deep slumber. And I’m neither dreaming nor hallucinating.