According to Sardar Patel Planetarium Director Manjusha Chakraborty, the much-anticipated meteor shower could have happened during the day on Tuesday. ``We have been observing the comet for sometime, and what we saw early on Tuesday morning, between 5 a.m. and 6.30 a.m., was far better than what happened at night'', she said, adding that it was possible that the shower occurred during daylight hours on Tuesday.

Apart from a miscalculation in the time, the comet could have also weakened as it moved westwards, Chakraborty said, pointing out that east Asian countries, including Japan and China, had reported the best sightings.

For the ignorant layperson, hyped by the media coverage and promises of live telecasts, however, the build-up to the event-that-never-was began early on Tuesday night.

For many Barodians, the meteor shower was preceded by a pleasant surprise: In a gesture that would have earned it much goodwill (and saved it around Rs 16,000), the VMC ordered sodium lights switched off after midnight. Executive Engineer (Electrical) Subodh Shah said a group of 60-odd civic employees, divided into 10 zones, began switching off power at 600 points; the lights were switched on again at 4 a.m.

As the excitement grew, the Patels and the Majmudars of Fatehgunj bundled themselves up warmly and took themselves off to Sindhrot for the very special night show -- little Esha said she was going to see ``woh jo hone wala hain na'' -- and less adventurous souls wrapped themselves in shawls to climb the flights to the terrace of the nearest high-rise.

As enthusiasts the true-blue astronomers armed with long-range telescopes, opera glasses and the like, and the converted layman depending on nothing more than his bare eyes began the long wait, the head-count began to see how many people had forsaken or disrupted a good winter night's sleep to stake out the stars. As one of them commented, ``It's as if there'll be a cricket match up in the sky''.The comparison was not entirely misplaced, because as the first faint silver streak appeared in the eastern sky, a collective audible gasp went up across the rooftops of the darkened city.

``I went up to the terrace at around 2 a.m., since that was when the show was supposed to peak, and I saw this streak of light 10 or 15 minutes later'', said Rajesh Sen, sales manager of a local hotel. ``Immediately, a cheer went up on all the neighbouring terraces, which were packed''.

As the minutes ticked by, and an audience nurtured on television time-tables wished this particular show didn't require 180 degree vision, a sudden brightness seemed to light up the earth. There were no cheers this time, only an awe-struck silence, as the stargazers geared up for the show to begin ``properly''.

That, though, was where the heavens failed; it didn't get much better or brighter. Fifteen-year-old Rohit Ravichander, who stayed up till 2 a.m., was a trifle disappointed, but said that he had enjoyed what he saw very much anyway. ``It was not quite what I expected, but I'm glad I got to see it'', he told Express Newsline. Only, before long, the stars began playing games with the audience, appearing when least expected and disappearing before they'd been seen with more than a corner of the eye. The gasps gave way to across-the-terrace jibes -- someone shouted ``khel khatam'' -- and bodies and eyes tired by a day's work began rebelling at the prolonged punishment. In ones and twos, they trooped back to the warmth of their homes and a good night's sleep, but many minds were still tingling on Wednesday morning. It was a humbling, moving experience, one that Barodians will not forget in a while.