I love tender coconuts. Especially the ones which have tender meat inside them.  And so we were standing (me and another friend) at the busy junction, drinking tender coconuts. You get so very tangled in everyday businesses that in spite of a strong urge to drink a coconut daily, we stop by the seller only once in a while.  And every time I stop, I make it a point to drink as many as my small stomach can take in. Alternating between malaiwala nariyal and paaniwala nariyal.

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            Even as we were relishing the coconut, a woman and a small girl came and stood beside us. The lady had a bowl in her hand. It's a common sight through out the breadth and height of < ?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />India. Beggars we call them.  The bowl was empty.  The small girl was bare foot and looked haggard.  They said something in Oriya. I had no clue what they said. I looked at them puzzled. The small girl was looking at the tender coconuts, with parched lips, scaled hands and unkempt hair. The lady motioned the bowl signaling that she was asking for alms.

 

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