HALE AND HEARTY.....

               The melancholy statues exploited their tireless feet sulkily through the streets; some, with the head held high and jaunty; and some, with bowed vertebrae, trying to caress the fond memories of the past, when the present held no meaning to them. Those, enjoying a propensity towards simplicity, haunted the streets of their taste, maybe behind the colossal Mall, or rather in the small, dingy lanes vis-à-vis. And those, who shuffled their lives amongst the wonders of glamour and extravagance, rather impudently chose to elbow their way into the likes of the aristocrats; irrespective of a degree of defame (if any).

                The day rambled on with its own gust when, at night, the beautiful white sphere rose to accompany the luminous orbs decking the sky. Some of the same breathers appeared once again on the streets, but this time with a more ambitious figure; perhaps with a sudden vivacious desire to revive what had been lost and regain Life, in its true sense. And also a new passel of mortals appeared altogether now, among which maybe all were lacking in their presence under the sun. They seemed to be in a sui generis type of rush, some rapidity that can stun any common onlooker like you or me. Once they reached the main street, in a trice, they broke into myriad individuals; some darted to board a bus, some for a taxi and some for an auto-rickshaw or a rickshaw; while the others chose to traipse their way, either in the ecstasies of prospect, or in the fathoms of tension or pensiveness. Many opted to dally around the shops lining the footpath: the voyeur enjoyers embarking on extravagant purchases while their counterparts either staring agape at such “mismanagement” or fleeting their time observing the goods without victimizing themselves to the claws of profligacy.

                When the darkness seemed to wrap the city more and more, the native dwellers could be seen pressing the doorbell—some with the case of exhaustion due to work, and some, overwhelmingly inebriated, dying to find a place in the mattress, until the tenacious hypercritical comments from his spouse seem to compound his condition more and more.

                So days go on as such, and man moves on; and the static change makes life dynamic, with every new day seeming better than yesterday.