The Lonely Bus Stand
The sun was blazing away in all its fury. The wind was trying to compete with the sun, blowing its top swirling dust all over. The rocks however just held their ground completely oblivious of the efforts of the sun and the wind. And like the rocks, was the lone man waiting at the bus stand – calm and unperturbed. His long matted hair and beard made it difficult to guess his age. The lack of grey hairs indicated he was probably less than 50 years of age. The dirt and grime made any attempt to deduce the color of his shirt abortive. His Dhoti had however somehow managed to withstand the grime better. A cloth bag hung from his shoulders. No bus seemed to be in sight. But he seemed in no hurry.