A piece on the unique nature of village mornings, all beautiful and pleasant.
The morning was superb. The beauty just sparkled. I was captivated as I gargled. Well, I had a bit of cough and cold. But nonetheless I tried to wake up at four, though my throat was sore. I was at my grandma’s place, Tarubeni, a tiny, but very beautiful village. I went out for a walk and saw the small and big fields all carpeted green. The variety of birds and flora and fauna were the most that could anywhere be seen. The air was filled with the sweet smell of sand. Little girls were going to school hand in hands. I had a little cousin two years and just very bold. She was a pretty picture to behold. The field crops were ripe, there was paddy, rice and maize. And their sight suited the gaze. Little puppies and piglets played on the road. There was a pond where abounded fish. And here it was said that everything came true whatever was wished, I moved around the temple and sat on a buffalo, he smiled when I said ‘hello’. My friends were coming, they smiled. I deduced that my house was exactly now one mile. I was seeing now the difference between a village and a town. The former definitely brought a smile and the latter a frown. In a town people would make fun of you inspire of your great abilities. But in village no one would laugh even if you were a tatter celebrity. I wanted to swim in the pond and visit the village market. I wanted to sit in my garden with beautiful flowers and enjoy the cool winds. Then I remembered I had to go back home. I walked merrily enjoying everything. And in ways more than one I found myself a blessed being.