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Dewdrops

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The glory of morning sun is encapsulated in dewdrops. Thousands of them. Slowly dripping from leaves and on to the ground, one after another. Some fragile looking but dazzling yellow and white flowers covered in mist are bathing in soft sun. A botanist friend of mine would have known their names; and boasted at length all the scientific details. And here I am, watching them and blessed not to have encumbered with such intrinsic knowledge. For things appear profoundly beautiful when you do not attach names and meanings to them.

A Night At Farmhouse

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    The night falls and whatever is nightly springs to life. Scintillating bright spots appear here and there over the dark sky. Down below several homes are lit with electric lights, further extending the day for mankind. But those who adhere to nature's cycle are preparing for a respite. Flowers have curled up their petals, wrapping up themselves like babies. Trees too look sleepy and seem to have shed their greens in the dark. They appear somewhat gloomy against the backdrop of full moon. Nonetheless, these humble giants are ready to host varieties of species looking for shelter. The birds have flocked back to their nests in banyan or peepal or perhaps in ruins of some old settlements. But this is the time for many nightly creatures to shrug off their langour and venture out in the cold of night. Bats are zooming in and out, flipping silhouettes, apparently going nowhere. Though faint but not unsettling the silence of this hour, some faraway sounds are distinctly audible. A chir