April comes and proves itself what it is worth to people: heat. Sun comes out blazing all its guns. Nature wilts.
The garden that I painstakingly build on the pots in my roof is blasted.
Rose buds of a rare variety get scorched away.
Last afternoon, a welcome norwester calmed the tortuous run of insatiable sun; but upto a point.
This morning the sun looks more menacing and merciless is its marauding journey across the skies.
Election season is right upon us. Political parties take out rallies and lob offensives and counter-offensives against each other. The heat and dust generated by their campaigning makes the earth hotter.
We are on the look out for a cooler place to live on.
Towards evening, yesterday, just after the mild hail-storm, as I went to the northern avenue to take in the beauty of yolk-like western sky, I came across some boys who were brandishing sticks and circled a place close to the northern wall.
Before I could do anything, they revelled in their successful mission of killing a baby snake. They simply beat the reptile to a bloody mess. Out of sheer joy they yelled at each other.
“When a harmless reptile is not spared, finding a safer place remains a mirage,” said Das babu who is an acclaimed expert of snake in Ulhas.
“Who cares?” I said as the last light of day was snuffed out from the sky by a prowling night.