It was a dusky evening .Cloudy. Gloomy. But not scary. It is quite on the hill top. The rustle of the wind too disturb your enjoying the stilled sound. The hill was
at the path way to the range of mountains; and of considerable height. The rain clouds tried kissing the top and my feet where I stood. Wind passing through the top was forceful disheveling the dress. Rain is expected. I saw birds flying to their nests. I wished badly to say a 'hallo' to them. I said. My hallo did not make them to stop and look at me. But my voice brought echoes. It was not my voice. Sounded like someone's No echoes belong to me. Nor to anyone else. We make sounds instinctively. Not to listen after any echo. Neither to be listened after. We can learn this little lesson from the rain clouds; from the wind passing through the mountain tops .From the chatter of the birds in their hurry to reach their nests before the rain. If any echo intervenes, let us become nonchalant.

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