'It is right at the end of the path. Past the tank-bund, a little beyond the neem tree.'
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'It is right at the end of the path. Past the tank-bund, a little beyond the neem tree.'
Retiring with a feeling of insouciance I sat under the sacred fig looking for signs of life in the placid waters of the lake. Nothing stirred. There was mostly silence speckled with some human chatter and disgruntled howls in the distance. The granite seat I rested on was still warm as I watched the dust on the village road catch the last rays of the settling sun.