Our boat trip now done, a bicycle taxi once again picked us up and pedaled us through the island to pick up the boat taxi. This driver was rather “horn-happy,” squeezing the bulb horn as a regular communication tool. Others chimed in, dinging their bicycle bells or more robust motorbike horn. With several simultaneously honking, it could have been part of an Indian symphony. With evening soon setting, a fog began to descend over the rice paddies. Older girls and women carried water to their homes. A small child held his mother’s hand, skipping along the narrow dirt path past the rice paddy near their home. The small market area was bustling with those buying produce or picking out the choice firecrackers. Music blasted from the temples and small shops. Men played cards in near darkness. The homes of many now disappeared in the darkness. Others were lit by a single kerosene lamp or light bulb (some powered by solar electricity). The single bell at a church clanged, inviting worshippers as we departed the island. The taxi boat made its way in virtual darkness, guided by experience and the lights coming from the distant shore.
1 comment:
Two lovely photos, Melissa. Sigh.
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