And it is still December in mind that it was the case when the date was mentioned in the journal; was rectified; and realised it was something that the month had impacted unknowingly; blurred; stubborn to get revealed and spotlighted; but was not cared at the same time. And this caused confusion on what was the month that was written on the postcards that was posted yesterday from Jawadhu hill. There was a huge story to tell via videography but it had the same impact when the exact thoughts and emotion were put in words and the effort too seems to be less compared to the processing of videos and stuff.

The snakes, birds, flies, squirrel; that got hit yesterday night, by the vehicle, was jammed onto the tar, was pecked by the dark crows, in fear in her mind, and it was not allowed to eat them in peace as there was in constant come and go of vehicle of all type; managed; evolved; sensed; and in sync with the speed of the vehicle approaching; picked them that were jammed in the tiny gap between the tar, escaped and put them into her stomach as the early morning food. And to the left of this scene was a closed chariot; in steal; sat an old man in white shirt and blue checked lungi; on a stone; was in intense talk to himself; unconsciously; and as it gets intensified; realised the madness it involved; ashamed a bit; managed to be normal as the society had said; got up and crossed the road and entered the temple that was singing suprabhatam; was distracted again with the statue nearby that was crafted in care and effort of a big hand, which was a political party’s identity; grazed it; and frowned as a heavy fish odour that was abruptly hitting the passerby; disgusted and joined the gang that was in discussion about some gossip.

The early morning music is good to the soul and the touch and feel of the old statue that had some classic language on it where it was carved by a man with bow and arrow, and nature had painted it yellow and green algae and some dried hive. The yellow followers dominate the sight and the blue sky as a competitor; stays a banyan tree along with the house of none visible; the cow that was grazing there got frighten as man run near by it in fear of dog chase; was controlled and settle by the villagers who were working on the under construction building. It was the church that stood in the middle of this yellow flower bed; painted white and bordered red; ruined a little with the cross in the centre was giving out the eerie effect to the pass by peoples. There was so much pride and stuff to the old man who praised the old carved stone that it was pandavas and their stuff is seen on the ground that his father used to collect them. He was saddened at the end when the castle was grounded a few years back and now no know about the carving and stuff. Tapioca was in full swing.

The post office was in ruined manner yet an functional one, nearby was the public school for tribal and was opened on sunday but the little ones were playing in front, shouting and running and there was a group gather in front of the temple, not sure on what to do was staring at the pig that was eating her rice; tied at her neck; was filled with full of fat and stuff; and her sudden drop down and sleep mode made them chuckle and that made their conversation to kill some time at the 10 AM morning hours. And the way that is to the direction of north was of a slop where a JCB trying hard to move a overloaded stuff and the owner who was not strong with the prediction and probability of the success of such an event; frowned; feared; and altered the facial expression according to the struggling of the JCB and at the end it was smooth and things got settled up.

That was the preparation for the tourists, who were returning from the falls, feeling hungry as the snack they tried to eat there was unfinished was grabbed by those monkeys, and when they saw this snack that was cooking live and fresh, the old ladies got them and were satisfied. The waterfall was in a zone that restricting people not to go near and it tells the story how the mankind was in earlier time depend on her and she was in sync with the humans and animals, now left alone, worried and it was the tear that was flowing through the big rocks which was the cause of such a huge water to fall, and its green algae on its path tells how emotional she is and in want of humankind to be in again insync with her. People were watching her tear behind the steel grill like a prisoner’s visitor at Puzhal jail.

It was the home cooked food, the mother and son’s hotel that was only one that is good to eat there, on opposite to the bus stand,, in middle of the mud of grey in colour, that it was distributing it dustfulness when there was in and out of local buses that labelled with the place names of Polur, Amirthi, Tiruvannamalai and stuff, and people were uncared the dust fullness as they were in busy with their stuff, some were on their way to a festive of home celebration, fully dressed up, and some holding big black bible that was colour red on the corner pages was passing in row like the herd of buffalo that was shown in tv when they migrate during famine.

The foothills were busy with the paddy and manjal and stuff as it was the month of pongal for the localities, and at the corner to the field was the home for the idols that was sculptured to be in seating position in multitude; symmetrically; placed unroofed under the palm tree, backgrounded with the horse and stuff which was left there untouched after it was installed in the beginning and intermittently worshipped when they remember to do so.