no fishing

Once it was

A fishing ground for the locals

Every morning and evening

The fishing enthusiat gathered at the mining pond

With their fishing rods and flies

Under the canopy of leaves and light shadows

They stood there smoking cigarettes oblivious of time

Across the street the food court stalls

The human chattering

The steamed smoke and ordering

The cigarettes puffing around the stalls

The constant human movements

Not many would look at the fishing

They were in tune with their food

One day 2 Indian men drowned

They went too deep into the mining pond

People around hardly notice the tragedy

By the time they did it was too late

The men died trying to earn some income..

Now the town council put up notice

No fishing for anyone around the mining pond

Too many buried souls soaked under the dark water

Of the decades the mining pond is left as it is

It is a history of broken affairs, greed and losses

Under the dark water of lives gone without goodbyes