One afternoon after lunch, I biked to the bank of river Ganges and asked the boatman if he would let me take my bike on his boat. Not only did he allow me, he lifted my dad's old, heavy 1953 Philips-UK bike on his shoulder, carried it, and placed it safely on the boat leaning it against a bamboo mast. I crossed the river with a few farmers who were on their way home after selling their produce in the local markets. Their baskets were partly filled with some vegetables, and rice. After crossing the river I found that there were no proper roads. There was a beautiful village path under a canopy of trees on either sides. Goats were grazing next to the path. It was very quiet. I took out my camera and took a picture. The goats were curious about my camera in the beginning, but when I was taking the picture, two of them found their neighbour Mr. Black Goat more intersting than my weird black box with a glass nose.
