Loudspeakers blaring indecipherable music alongside a group of musicians beating drums filled the air outside the BJP headquarters in Mumbai, but party supporters and workers has deserted the premises.
Yogakshema, the headquarters of the Life Insurance Corporation of India, looks like a skyscraper that has been laid down on its side. A fallen Goliath, if you may.
In its shadow, across the street, are the Maharashtra offices of the Bharatiya Janata Party, the once seemingly unstoppable juggernaut.
From a distance, it would seem that celebrations are in full swing at the party office.
Loudspeakers on top of loudspeakers blaring indecipherable music alongside a group of musicians beating drums feverishly, blowing the turari, the traditional Maharashtrian horn, people dancing.
Go closer and you get a somewhat different picture: The players seem like hired hands, a professional band that plays for cash and the dancers are in full costume, dancing what seemed like garba, the folk dance form of Gujarat, the state of Narendra D Modi and his lieutenant Amit A Shah.
The party workers lingered around, holding Modi cutouts, watching the paid performers do their thing.
This was in sharp contrast to the celebrations at the Shiv Sena Bhavan, which were lively, and boisterous.
Women and men smearing each other with the colour saffron, even the few Muslim supporters, drenched in sweat, likely from dancing for several hours in the hot sun.
If the Sena UBT celebrations seemed genuine and spontaneous, the ones at the city headquarters of the BJP looked, like most things BJP these days: A bit manufactured.
To be sure, it was towards the end of a long, summer day, so you could make a case for fatigue. But the empty seats facing a giant screen flashing poll numbers revealed a fuller picture: this was not the office of a victorious party.
The music continued to blare on the speakers. But could it be that the music had actually stopped?
