Red sun at morning

We flew out of Kolkata this morning, farewelled by a brilliantly glowing pinky-orange sun. A light layer of mist silhouetted vanishing rows of trees. Kolkata looked, well, beautiful So I got to thinking about all the other beautiful things of the past week (do you feel another list coming on?)

Colours:
Simple, bright little kites flying above the grimy old buildings; saris hung out to dry flapping like sails in the breeze; the women walking so proud and beautiful in their richly decorated clothes; a little orphan at at Shishu Bhavan happily flaunting her one scarf.

Glimpses:
Two little muslim boys so smart in white suits and caps, hanging off their father's arm; kids playing cricket in a back street, or soccer in the deserted streets of Kolkata late at night; the peaceful napping of stray dogs curled into the neatest round balls.

People:
The grace and patience of the sisters of Charity; a guy giving me a seat even though it was in the male section of the train; shaking hands with and swinging little leper kids, and peeling eggs with the ladies; the laughing smile of the watch-seller at Jasmine's hard bargaining; drinks with Rajesh the laidback tour guy and the many friends who pop in and out of his tiny shopfront.