I’ve tried and failed again and again. He never lets me capture, in my frames, this abandoned factory, of which he’s the watchman. It’s not that easy slipping by him either. Don’t you think I’ve tried? I did one day and he confiscated my camera!
“Bhaiya, please give me back my camera. I promise I will not publish these pics anywhere!”
He was looking at me as if I had just murdered somebody in front of him. I glared back. Accepting defeat, “Delete the pics and I would let you have it back,” he said, slumping his shoulders.
“Look, my job depends on it.”
“Okay, but at least can you find me some shade. Sun’s glare hinders the display’s brightness. I don’t want to accidently delete the pics that aren’t of this factory.”
He began walking towards a tent.
“Do you live in that tent?” I asked, catching up with him. He didn’t speak for a while.
“Yes, I’ve been living here for a while,” he said, after reaching the entrance of the tent.
It was a cozy little tent. At one corner was his bed, in the other, he had a temporary temple for Hanumanji.
“So, Hanumanji protects you at night?” I asked, raising one eyebrow.
“Yes, actually, he protects me all day long,” he smirked, “so that I could protect this factory from meddling guys like you!”