It is again that time of the year in Western Ghats, when Clouds come floating into, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to the sunset sky. Every day more often than not the sunset brings a new surprise.
Sometimes while watching sunsets from sea coasts, lake shores and mountain ranges I keep on wondering that how a death-bed can be so beautiful, death bed of day.
It was 5 O' Clock in the Kolhapur and the clouds were doing the usual hide and seek. Softly the evening came. The sun from the western horizon like a magician extended its Red wand on the sky scape. Wrinkling vapours arose; and sky and water and forest Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled together.
The sacred lamp of day now dipped in western clouds his parting day.
