NavDharmyug

As the night peeps through the horizon, and a fog-dust laden day breathes its last, a world of grey takes shape. This is a strange world, where vision is shaky, and sight unclear. The Sun in this world is not a sharp, round splendour, but a red, wrapped in smoke, spilling over the edges of poorly defined circle. It struggles to render the light on the dusty lanes of a sleepy city, tired after a broken battle, but fails at the night which spreads its sinister tentacles over the city. The brave Sun of the noon, retracts to it's corner, defeated, ashamed at the disappointment of those who needed it to see the world with clearly defined edges. There was a time, when the smog was not there. The splendid Sun shone in its glory, defining each corner, every edge of the buildings, houses, streets, pronounced, and illustrated to clarity in it's white light. That was a world which lived in black and white. That was a world easy and difficult at once. It was the world which asked it'...