the flute-seller

The notes reach out to me on the 13th floor, I wonder for a moment where they are coming from, and then going to the window, I see a flute-seller. He plays as he walks down our lane flanked by two high boundary walls, but his melodies are hardly going to entice anyone from the tall towers. Surely, the flute-seller is for smaller lanes, smaller houses, where people still hang out of their windows and sit near the doors, and the children play on the streets. With his fan of flutes behind his shoulder, he looks as strange as a peacock would here in Mumbai, and the sweet sounds he coerces out of his flute yearn for more open skies.

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11 thoughts on “the flute-seller

  1. This brings back a lot of summer afternoons. You’re rather good when you take time out from being a serial-film-watcher.

  2. the flute seller found my mom. so now sanah has a flute. and she is pleased as punch that she is able to cajole a clear sound out of it.

  3. Pingback: waking up | banno, dhanno and teja in bumm-bumm-bhole-land

    • Yes, Harvey. It is indeed beautiful. Reading this post again, I wonder why I could not see the beauty of the peacock, only its sadness in the city.

      • True, a peacock alone in the city would be sad most probably.
        We have here peacocks on the grounds of a castle. They are very popular with the visitors and they know that. You should just look at them how they strut in front of the humans and pose. Just like some stars on the red carpet in Cannes! At first I was vary of going near them, but I saw that they really didn’t mind.

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