TGOST excerpt

From The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy  May in Ayemenem is a hot, brooding month. The days are long and humid. The river shrinks and black crows gorge on bright mangoes in still, dustgreen trees. Red bananas ripen. Jackfruits burst. Dissolute bluebottles hum vacuously in the fruity air. Then they stun themselves against clear windowpanes and die, baffled in the sun. The nights are clear, but suffused with sloth and sullen expectation. 

© Arundhati Roy