Wonder whose sitar - they're playing on air now
The news in Bangla's over
I trudge along as I keep on listening - the strains of music linger
A suburb in a mofussil town, rubbing upon a wood
Dusk descends on bushes and brushes - wild fragrance fused
Across the bend, quite unexpected, a red hued earthen mound
Right behind which peeps a hill - a monolith standing its ground
Jackals call as night arrives, 'n as soon's I advance
A fig tree's brought to life it seems by bats that flutter and dance
The noise of hooting owls above - startles - and Oh dear!
Telegraph wires have caught alive a half-moon in a snare.
