There is actually nothing beautiful to be seen in Morni hills,nothing for those expecting grandeur, for there are heights you can merely call hills.This is not a place you come to everyday, but on some full moon nights when the shallow valley is all lit up, not by the vibrant electric lights but by the single whitish moonlight-a scarce sight indeed. No huge religious erections chanting unending renditions to gods but a small temple who’s bells are rung seldom rung, even by winds passing by.
There are roads-boulevards mostly,taking you nowhere.Roads that are not marred with the filth and traffic of the city,the cacophony of honking and ever moving traffic. These are the roads where you would actually love to sit down with your coterie, squat or take up any random posture, confabulate on usually nonsense stuff-that broadens your lips and get captured relishing those little things that are most inundating.
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