An old man in the marketplace, sitting listlessly outside his shop.

Implore

While the pilgrims spent like money like water on candles, wax offerings and religious artifacts; the beggars in the marketplace went scrambling after them , hoping to tug at a heartstring, or maybe get the small change returned by the shopkeepers into their own hands . .

Seen here is one such beggar, who has positioned himself in such a way, it appears he is asking God directly for help, not the people. (The white building in the background is the Basilica, the main hall of worship of the diety)

He was partially blind I think, and didnt move around much.

He stretched out his arms to beg even when thee was not a single passerby anywhere near him . .

It being a Christian pilgrimage destination, spotting Hindu priests would've been pretty difficult.

This guy however, attracted a lot of attention in the marketplace.

In his own world, skipping around with his pooja thali, reciting his prayer beads and singing out aloud.

As if trying to create for himself, a home away from home . . . .

चूड़ियाँ, हर रंग की . .

The little small-town market.

Which does its thing again and again, day after day.

Which is nothing more than a straight stretch of road, less than a kilometer in length, leading upto to the beach.

But, seen from this angle, it looks like there is no end.

To the heat, the colors, the haggling.

Down South, especially in the smaller towns, they're obsessed with colour.

Bright colours. And shine.

Fluorescents, pastel blue pink green yellow and silver and gold.

It's fascinating to see how their garb offsets their dark skintone. . . .

However, these colour schemes are not only for clothes, but their goods as well.

Seen here, is a crib set, South Indian style

:)

Vailankanni Marketplace again.

Their dark skins damp.

The fires always ablaze.

The oils bubbling in the blackened iron kadhais.

. . . Spitting stinging red spots , to keep you away.

The goodies, open, for fly, flea and human to see.

And feast.

Oh and most of these tiny eateries have No Smoking signs.

They obviously should, there's enough smoke around the place anyway!

Where do I go, from here?

It's not often that parents really, I mean really bond with their children.

Or maybe, some parent-child relationships are just something out of the ordinary.

Just one glance at the parent and child together, and you just know . . . . .

One such bond is the one between my mother and my sister.

Seen here, they're talking for like the third time in the few hours they've been away from each other

:)