To the far left, a bamboo ring barricades the bare-footed football madness. One of them is in there with the village-folk. Showing off his skills with a gluttonous portion of rowdyness. He's cool. He's not a poser, so they get along fine. With his winners luck that is.
"Abey chutiyonnn...", babu yells out hopeless. "Ab tak idhar. The stars are twinkling your houses already."
We look up. Darting-unclear eyes. It is! And we run.
As we sprint across the sandy plateau leaving the fun kilometers behind, I can see the world away lighting up slowly. 50 odd feet above, across the white rocks of division, wide steps reach the starry-bright landscape of the rich city.
My limbs tear up every step, but we keep on. Suddenly I realize, someones missing. The fourth, i yell out. Where... where is he?
The other 2 halt. Short-breathed.
My eyes linger behind when i suddenly spot him on the terrace in the mela. He's(huffing and puffing)... he's wearing twinkling green pants! With(huff)... with a green puffy-sleeved blouse. A round red nose lights up his face as he dances funny in matching boots. 'What! What the hell is he... '
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