Friday morning, the day after the last day of Diwali, all we want now is quiet. And here it is. Even tourists are tired of the dancing and singing, stirring the dust in the frenzy. Yesterday's seven color tika strip remains in full a day after and could remain for a few more days. A haircut is up and shaving the noggin clean is still being negotiated. I hesitate only when I think of undesired attention but how else, how else could I do it otherwise.
Returning to write here seems to be, and only for me, a place no one could ever understand.
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