Outside Janardanaswamy Temple, there was a sacred pond for ritual cleansing - jewelled dragonflies settled upon the scorched balustrade -
Two men in white dhotis walked past, deep in conversation -
Before the kiosk where we left our shoes, beggars gathered - there were old women, with beseeching eyes, who stretched out their hands towards us -
Sprawled on the hot red earth, an ancient with a face of crumpled leather stared up at us - he pointed to a piece of matting, upon which was scattered some pitiable largesse -
Money, he said, money -
I hid behind my sunglasses, later turning to take his photograph -
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