Cold November

Languid Lazy afternoon beckons me to slumber almost….. tis the fall season… dried tamarind leaves have turned white defiantly hanging on to the branches daring the wind to make them fall elsewhere leaves turn from green to yellow and than a pale shade of brown fluttering slowly to the ground in the warm breeze a quaint little village narrow roads lead to still narrower entrances marked with crossed iron bars step into a different world inside a big jamun tree majestic in the immense courtyard embraced by open corridors full of warm people in the hot afternoon flags atop the myriad temples perched on little mountains chequered shades of sun under the green trees little yellow shoots of green bursting out from the same stems who let go of the leaves earlier new giving way to the old so lovely and peaceful here who wants to go back to the hustle bustle of your town?