These words belong to Ahmed Ali, author of Twilight in Delhi, but sum up what I saw last week, while I was in a farm in Mandwa.
"The stars shine in clusters, so many of them, ever so many, little bunches of light, twinkling away with a white radiance, holding court, as it were. There are big stars and small stars, stars shining with a lonely lustre and stars glowing in bunches like pearls strung together in a necklace or like the forehead ornament of a beautiful brow. There are bunches of them shaped like a semicircular purse, and stars shaped like a nosering on a delicate nostril. And there are stars and stars, and inside the stars are cool green worlds, and every star is a lovely maid."
"The stars shine in clusters, so many of them, ever so many, little bunches of light, twinkling away with a white radiance, holding court, as it were. There are big stars and small stars, stars shining with a lonely lustre and stars glowing in bunches like pearls strung together in a necklace or like the forehead ornament of a beautiful brow. There are bunches of them shaped like a semicircular purse, and stars shaped like a nosering on a delicate nostril. And there are stars and stars, and inside the stars are cool green worlds, and every star is a lovely maid."
