Thousands, no, tens of thousands of fairy lights are hung over everything and towards six pm they come alive. Whites, greens, blues create a festive feel though echoing in the background is a bass voice of a Buddhist monk chanting. The sound resonates over the roosting birds who have a cacophony of their own under way. Thousands of small flags are strung and create a false ceiling, a metre above the head, in the promenade outside the Mahabodhi Temple.
The chaiwalas are doing a brisk trade plying hot lemon tea with masala, very delicious and refreshing. The mosquitoes are out in their thousands flying around the head but not landing, just a nuisance. Pilgrims continue to pour into the temple with as many coming out having completed a day of meditation or penance. Groups of robbed monks amble along the promenade. Some in mindfulness, other's in exercise at a pace.
The hawkers do not give in. They try every new face. Impulse buying on dusk as bus loads of Indian tourists depart. There is a heavy military presence joining the meander, rifles slung over the shoulder and guns strapped to belts.
The Hindu temple, in competition, with bell ringing and chanting, a different pitch and duration. The call to Mosque has happened.
The surrounding peepal trees have green fluorescent lights illuminating their branches that creates a surreal atmosphere.
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