A shower of dust, a murmuring wheezy laughter,sunburnt hands smearing cowdung.
The bizzare rodlike muddy roads, stitched colorful unassuming homes, the tea stall with its chattery men on the corner, the faroff well which invites streams of brighly-clad chirping ladies.
Small, lost in the wild, the village resonates with quarrels,contentment and warmth. the bus , the rail and the beast of burden were its thread with the world.
An old retired officer living in the gloomy city embarks on a road trip to his bumbling village.Tall,slighty round with a defiant walk , sitting aloofly, he cleans his spectacles gently. A cool breeze, the playful sun and a window seat touched the strings of even the hard.
After an hour or so, as it generally happens on long road trips,the goddess touches the troubled minds with compassion.merrily sleeping , the web of dreams began for our gentleman.
A old frail man sat with eager eyes in a bus. He was traditionally attired in a Kurta and dhoti.a huge red-green turban graced his grey light head.quizzical and fearful, his eyes shut down like a Indian post office regularly even without sleep.the little boy sitting next to him had a placid expression. Whimsical laughter on incorrect occasions had been rewarded with plenty of slaps which was embarrassing in front of the lads.
A villager who recognized the father, smiling goofily greeted him.coming near, he inquired ‘ where are you going’?. This common place query triggered a moral dilemma for the old man. The reader must be told about the superstitious beliefs that had made a permanent nest in the house of the father. a pleasant journey would be ended on any mention of the destination. It is to be kept in the mind , not to be spolit by telling it. Like god, whose presence can be felt Internally , words do disservice to knowing the divine. The response had to be made with caution. So hesitating, he said ‘ don’t you know, where this bus is going to?’. This chap was rather a curious kind.again ‘what is the place? ‘ we have told you before! Lad’ quickly quips comes from the corner.
Human beings burn the coal, assuming it is just optimally hot.the intense heating, ruins their lukewarm days.after good riddance from the inquistive devil, a donkey appeared. The lazy, burdened being was marching clumsily under the gaze of a strangely mad master. The master had a fascination for the sun gods.raising his plump, scratched hand towards the sun, he chanted old mantras.like an accurate pendulum, his head dangled sideways and then touched the hot ball.the animal had to be more wise than the master.they soon, were a source of great attention to the old man. The donkey was not a common sight to him. It was another black omen. The mere presence of it could make a bountiful forest to a horrendously lifeless desert.
With great urgency, shouting to the money counting, spitting conductor, muttering fearful, he rushed down the bus. the blood pumping, air coming and going out quickly, the pulse rate, the sweating and the muffled hair made him aware of his body.then,frantically, he walked circling, stooping down. Even digging the nearby earth. zooming his dying eyes to discover a new Star. Even seeing the cows crazily.crying aloud! Where is the boy!