The Peepal Tree

It was a pleasant, breezy morning. We set out early to procure some food, before the day got too hot and the visitors disappeared into the malls nearby. It is cold inside there, I had overheard. We perched high on the sill, to scan the large courtyard.

“Would you want to be them?”, he asked me, his long tail shifting from one side to another.

“Mmm, maybe”, I responded, looking for an example — a woman to spot that I could relate to. “It would be nice to try some lipstick and sunglasses”

He rolled his eyes. “Of all the things?”, he shrugged.

We spotted a young couple with a small picnic basket. Hands interlocked, they walked seemingly more engrossed in themselves rather than the archaeology they had paid for. “Wonder why they pay to see ruined structures of concrete”, I thought to myself, as I turned around to steal a glance of the clear blue lake outside with rows of tall luscious peepal trees.

“They are moving to the target. Let’s follow”, he disrupted my thoughts with clear instructions and swiftly leapt outside the window. I always struggled to keep up with him.

The young couple had found one of the famous lovers’ spots in the temple. It was a sufficiently shielded corner, shaded by trees. They laid out a mat, took out a few knick knacks to eat and opened a can of lemonade.