a monkey slips his fingers into the leather bag

strapped onto a black motorbike

that belongs to a man who is taking photographs of the mountainside

the culvert is sprayed with blood-red paan

the graffiti of the poor

the green shrubs have plastic debris beneath them

stacked like glistening Christmas presents

a few ripe jackfruits hang from the trees

while some weaklings have broken and split in the carpet of dried leaves

a stray nail from the plank of wood

digs into my thigh

as I place my order with a middle aged lady in a patterned cotton nightie

we receive two cups of coffee

that taste like diluted jaggery

and a plate of pillowy idlis drowning in sambar

we watch as a stray dog just escapes

the raging wrath of a bleating van

and barks defensively as it disappears around the bend

the lady rushes to survey the commotion

and we all collectively offer the dog our quiet support

satisfied, he proceeds on his journey

the monkey has gone

the man returns to his bike

he picks up a spectacle case and ratty keychain

from the damp mud

and rides off into the cool evening

as we all re-settle into a state of calm,

something catches the light in the distance

the monkey tries on his new pair of neon sunglasses.