muniya re muniya

Sitting under the partial shades of the Deodars, I can hear some caws little apart. Can see a pair of white butterflies frisking over the green roof. I am swinging. I can sense the wild breezes, mild but enough to mingle with my hair. Girls from Sacred Heart's are singing - their voices diminishing and blurring from behind the thick growth of the 'green'. To everyone's pleasure, Dalhousie doesn't seem to have yet got strangled in the chains of extremities in climate. We still do not possess fans in our residence. The residence is so designed by the good old Britishers that we don't feel much hot but yes cold during the peak winters. That has a solution though - fireplaces.  Some insects crinkle over and over I haven't been able to trace. Monkeys, grasshoppers are a frequent guests but these insects seem to sing much wider part of the daily chorus, latently.  No one to talk with, I am all by myself reading and writing under the  blue sky with patches of