Nainital
Twilight is dancing on the lake water. All the myriad reflections of life are alive. The sun is receding behind the mountains. There are no more clouds in the sky. I wish for a starry night. Soon the last boatmen will oar his way back; his mind will be occupied by his earnings of the day. How much is sufficient, how much is luxury? In the end, we’ll all be Capitol Cinema – alone, old, dead.
My favorite bench near the band house is unoccupied. I scurry my way to it. The gurudwara, the oaks and the local salesmen stand tall. They have lived lives here, they are living lives here…
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