The ring of temple bells.
The cock crowing across the street.
Melodies of early morning bhajans.
Then the ring of the our kitchen bell.
Din through the hallways as the day begins.
Black coffee.
The speech of breakfast time...
'Saka?', 'Sako.','Eita?', 'Eito.', 'Prayer marana'...
The heat, the smell of the streets.
This morning I was hit by a two wheeler.
It wasn't really moving fast.
And it was going in the opposite direction to the traffic.
Why would I think to look in the opposite direction on a one way street?
And yet, I'll miss the oblivion that people have to each other,
and the extreme sense of welcome.
The way making a fuss can produce faster service,
and bartering is a way of life.
I'll miss the sporadic monsoon showers
and the cows in the street.
And of course,
I'll miss the men and women
with whom I've shared the last 6 months (or so)
of my life.
Intensely.
