The sun rises in the west too…

The bus drones. Thin streaks begin to grey the black sky… a man sitting two rows in front hums softly. I suspect a hymn.  The woman next to him stirs. Murmurs. Silence. The drone goes on. The streaks become thicker and brighter. Pink stains creeping in. The man begins to hum again. The woman sings along, softly.

The sun rises in the west.

With each passing minute the city gets closer. A song of that city drifts into my imagination, mixes with the drone and the hum. Drifts out. Something about cities – you can never really leave them.

The sun rises in the west.

The humming couple, now converse with the same softness. Someone else snores softly. I begin to see the land, the trees.

A sudden memory. I remember the hymn.

The sun rises in the west too…

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About victoranish

A theatre worker living in Bangalore.
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