(These are musings from my room, while I sat at my desk and looked through the balcony towards the Ganga, its waters expanding everyday, and the felt its breeze refresh me from time to time.)
Days pass, the winds blow. Sometimes strong sometimes not.
With the rains, the river swells, and the smell of moisture pervades the air, the moisture of the sacred river.
The thought itself makes you fresh, and helps you imagine the sweetness in the air you breathe in.
Other times, the river dries up, and the waste collects on the banks.
The winds then bring in a different smell, something not as pleasant and something that does not need much imagination.
The water continues to flow like time, without bother, or any discrimination.
No comments:
Post a Comment