God And The Cobbler

February, 1976

Nothing seemed to belong to him. He sat on a strip of no man's land between the outer wall of the temple and the street. The branch of a margosa tree peeping over the wall provided the shade and shook down on his head tiny whitish-yellow flowers all day. "Only the gods in heaven can enjoy the good fortune of a rain of flowers," thought the hippie observing him from the temple steps, where he had stationed himself since the previous evening. No need to explain who the hippie was, the wh...

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