Mourners amble past waiting traffic at the Holy Spirit Church road. They are headed for the cemetery near the Hospicio Hospital, to pray at the grave of their loved one. Black, white and varying shades of blue are traditional mourning hues.
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This minibus is dead too and its wellwishers heave and push, trying to get it to chug to life. They succeeded within five minutes of pushing it up and down in a short space of barely six metres!
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Who says grown men play only with big cars! These 'banjo band' musicians toting their clarinets et al have housed their battery and amp in this little orange tugalong. The orange matches their boots and jackets. The suit clad clarinetist is probably the leader. A motley crew of topi and kurta clad gentlemen patiently wait in the background.
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The shop glass and scooter mirrors reflect the streetscape of Margao, but this young girl's face reflects her total absorption in her cellphone chat. The sign above her offers 'Chocklet' Barfi among other delicacies.
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No time to stand beneath the boughs, And stare as long as sheep and cows:
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This truck is clearly apologetic towards all the other vehicles he may have brushed or dented along the way. So am I for being away for so long. Hectic work deadlines compelled me to keep aside my beloved blog. But I have a lot of stuff ahead for you, so as the radio jocks say, stay tuned!
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Cheers
Jose
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