Past Jhalki on the NH 13 bound for Solapur, villagers wait roadside by a temple, likely for a bus that winds through the countryside, past homesteads on farms that stretch to infinity, and beyond.
The sky is overcast and a breeze is about. The Bhima is a ten minute ride ahead where it flows by Vadakbal. Ah, the Bhima, such a long journey. So many memories.
And it’s a morning I'd like to spend by a window looking out at the world passing by, except I'm passing by a world looking on.