The air is still.I am pondering over the intricate nature of man.Is he essentially evil? I get distracted by the queer sound of some creature coming from a close-by tree.It is a shrill whistle like sound interspersed by the crowing of some robust crow.The verdant tree harbouring them stands still.It was the screech of the squarrel.I see them generally scuttling along on the boundary wall, picking on the grains scattered over it.Their pointed profiles and bushy tails created a perfect scene and became one with the surroundings.The green flowering pots stood eternally there on the wall and these nimble creatures scurried around them. They trailed after one another and were quick to feel any sort of intrusion which made them jump on the close- by tree. And this sound was contrary to this ethreal picture. My mother had created a green bower around the small courtyard in front of our house.Th...