Posted in Musings

Whoosh Whoosh

As I stood on the balcony, I could hear the typical swooshing sound coming from opposite directions – from the two ends of the street. From my vantage point, I could see what could be termed as a quintessential morning sight in rural India representing all generations leading up to mine – women up and about in the morning, bending down with one arm behind their back and the other clearing away leaves and debris from their front-yard with a broom typically made of the dried spines of coconut leaves.

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