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The Moon’s Favorite Librarian
Every Tuesday at precisely 11:11 PM, the Moon visited a little library tucked between two sleeping oak trees at the edge of the world. No one knew, except for Clara, the librarian. She never told anyone, because who would believe her?
The Moon always returned overdue books — mostly poetry and cookbooks about clouds — and left a silver pebble on the counter in apology.
Clara never charged late fees.
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Driving in a bus up the mountain to Mount Abu was quite an experience. It was after seeing Udaipur, and I kept fearing that I would literally fulfil Max Mueller's injunction to 'see Udaipur and die'.* The road to Abu goes along steep cliffs, unfenced, and the bus has to swing pretty far out in order to get around the hairpin turns. It's only wide enough for one car, so he sometimes blows his horn going around corners, but to do this he has to take a hand off the wheel. The road is slippery with cow dung and often you have to swerve to avoid the monkeys leaping over each other's heads, playing with the baby monkeys. Near the top, after a dizzying, terrifying, steep twohour ride, the bus stopped at a shrine to Ganesh, to whom we all offered our thankful pennies, as we did once again before starting down again.
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SUN TEMPLE KONARAK
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