Snippets | The Courtyard

The evening breeze dances into the courtyard, playing with the prayer flags adorning the north-west section. Colorful murals adorn the palatial walls, only broken by green windows and a branch or two of trees that have pierced the walls, nature conquering man.

The glory days of the edifice are distant memories, a murmur among its corridors and verandahs. But even in its dilapidated state, it has a certain charm, perhaps something that only comes with maturity, with experience. Or perhaps, the remnants of the footsteps, the hopes, the dreams, the stories of all those who have been here, in this small square world still permeate through this barricaded air.

The pigeons sitting atop the roofs seem like they have been here forever. The sky, the blue blue sky, with its square alabaster frame has been here forever, watching over this tiny stone-paved patch of land.

People trickle in, their voices infused with the evening calm.

Then it begins, whatever we are here for. And in whatever ways we can, we speak, we listen, we dance, let ourselves be drowned in the music coursing through the air.

Soon enough, the evening will end and we shall leave this square world. But perhaps, some part will remain — a frame in the memories of this courtyard.