Some distant hill

These hills around are not devious. They neither hide. It's as well not that simple. The temple is an open rock structure. It is perspired by sun glare, morning and afternoon. At night, dark befalls the sorrounding. Throughout the long day, sparse traffic, to and fro, keep hitting the road. Inside the periphery, there are trees of variety. Donning a white dhoti and a loose upperwear shawl, a quiet thin-looking gentleman could not be seen more calm. Time stands before him, in unrolled butterfly. He does not count his age. No belongings, but all that exista in thoughts and good faith.

As desireless he can be, he is not a keeper. A devotee, but of what god? Shree Hanuman sparks inside the garbhagriha, grabbing a huge mountain in his hand. Some call him baba, some just call him sadhuji. Few roadbikes stopped days ago and took several images of him. They politely asked for permission. It's not a nuisance. It's a way to secretly remain connected with the multitude. The city of million crowd, equipped with the latest technology grab is not too far. Infact, the city is already expanding enough and may one day touch the premises of the temple he resides. But that day is still too far.

Baba recites no secret mantras. His devotion exudes in simplicity. Like breath, like regularity, like seasons, like the fall of day-night, like the blooming of flower, like the cause of change, baba continues in serene emotion. Random sparring donations helps him keep a surviving diet. Guess, hunger could not be deceited! His cycle also comprise a 9'O clock moving to sleep and waking up at midnight to start his day.

Is it too quenched a soul, what motivates detachment? No family, no friends, no travel plans, no financial savings.. What world is his? Strangest probably. Like the statue inside, like this one living soul.