- Apr 14, 2010
- Member Type
- Student or Learner
- Native Language
- Bengali; Bangla
- Home Country
- Current Location
At the furthest corner of the city stood tall a huge white church; that was the oldest of the city. Not many folks did come here and it was kind of abandoned, one might say. But it was as glossy as it used to when the Kings had offered prayers to Father. Still then the shiny white walls dazzled one's eye when sun rays reflected off it. The birds chirped all day long sitting about idly on the fattest and oldest banyan tree. It appeared as if only the birds did say their prayers here to Father, no longer any men or even women. Many stories about the banyan tree and the church, one could hear every now and then from the old grandpas and grandmas of this city. But had to admit despite the dashing looks of the church its premises were somewhat untidy, mostly due to allowing the nature to grow as it liked and due to people not give here a regular visit or so, no more.
It was one fine morning, the sun was already bright and casting a good worm heat upon my back. This December morning really had something in it, it was no nice around. The flowers of various colours on every single trees made it looks like a riot of colours. The cold wind whistled through the trees, and the leaves of the trees responded waving their head at them as they went past them.
A kind of stranger in this city,I was passing by this church. The warble of those unknown birds were really awesome, demanding hardly the same respect that I used to give to those fat ladies in Opera; I hated those the most, can't understand whether those lady really singing or crying a sad tear or two on stage. As I went past that old tree, the church yard came in full view, in its complete natural looks - white and green blended so well. as though some unknown painter with some higher authority painted this on his Life-and-Death Canvas. Among the greenery, a bright coloured yellow flower put its head above the grass. Some dew drops were still hanging down from the edges of its petal. A white and blue coloured butterfly was fluttering round it. Such a bliss this place is! All are so quiet save for those tweets of birds and buzzing of bees. I pushed back its rusty gate and went up into the church yard. I had never been into charch before
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