All is brown,except under the banyan. The young banyan looks down to send green overtures. A leaf falls on silence. A bird cries from the brownness around.
Bush and rock are brown. They merge in a silence ,not their own.
They had made holes in the rocks. I see four boys generally fooling around with Sunday curiosity about holes. The holes are full of silence. Silence is brown and some times it rises like vapour around bushes.
The boys break their silence and their laughter comes to us over brown bushes.