Whipping a storm in the puddle of mud,
Kids doing the lungi dance as their tiny feet and toes dug deep in the cake baked with nature’s happiness;
Lovers hands twirl into each other, drenching themselves in the heavy shower from top-to-toe;
Swirling into glimpse of joy flung at them, street urchins break into lungi dance, caught unaware by the glare of nay sayers;
Proud mother holding the new-born in her arms as she kisses her forehead, relishing divine moments;
The loner slink its step forward, indulging into priceless solitude move at the busy traffic signal;
Days of yore seem to be like an eluding dream, reflecting on the fading glory of once a life time memories whittling down like ice cream;
Moods of an era and a moment that shall cease to exist and become history in the flick of time.