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Perfect Strangers- Under the Banyan Tree
(Five years ago…)
The newest addition to the place was- Mona. At first nobody seemed to have noticed her with her average-looking face and her average-looking locks as she innocuously started in a small rental property (which she would soon buy) on the cobblestone footpaths which knew each and every person living in that quaint small town called Blombridgeshire. In those days, the town indeed really small in comparison to the busting central city in the same state, a factor that continued to diminish the town’s personal business and which all residents of the town magnanimously continued to ignore since nobody in Blomsbridgeshire really wanted a tussle with the bigger city folks, and hence the law.
Mona was Indian by birth but this small town was more cosmopolitan than she could have believed upon hearsay. There were three small temples in the town and a local shivling under a banyan tree estimated to be at least five hundred years old. Every time she passed by the banyan tree with its huge roots, someone would be praying in front of the shivling or offering milk to the same. One day, she gathered the courage and went up to an Indian-looking passer-by who had stopped under the banyan tree.
“Good morning. How do you do?” she started politely, remembering the English traditions of greeting.
“Oh, good morning, lady.” The lady replied and Mona realized with a flip...
The newest addition to the place was- Mona. At first nobody seemed to have noticed her with her average-looking face and her average-looking locks as she innocuously started in a small rental property (which she would soon buy) on the cobblestone footpaths which knew each and every person living in that quaint small town called Blombridgeshire. In those days, the town indeed really small in comparison to the busting central city in the same state, a factor that continued to diminish the town’s personal business and which all residents of the town magnanimously continued to ignore since nobody in Blomsbridgeshire really wanted a tussle with the bigger city folks, and hence the law.
Mona was Indian by birth but this small town was more cosmopolitan than she could have believed upon hearsay. There were three small temples in the town and a local shivling under a banyan tree estimated to be at least five hundred years old. Every time she passed by the banyan tree with its huge roots, someone would be praying in front of the shivling or offering milk to the same. One day, she gathered the courage and went up to an Indian-looking passer-by who had stopped under the banyan tree.
“Good morning. How do you do?” she started politely, remembering the English traditions of greeting.
“Oh, good morning, lady.” The lady replied and Mona realized with a flip...
