Happy New year

The sky was clean; on both sides of the road the land looked  laden with neatly knotted sheaves waiting to be loaded in trolleys for storage. Only a few farmers had finished this work so their farms were open for cattle. The road ran along the small rivulet which was still cherishing water of last rain. There was a smell of reinvigorated babuls, bordis, unwanted grass giving confidence of definite welfare. Driving along this serene road bikers felt enthralled of stable greenery.

"Yar, whatever progress our industrial sectors may have achieved but in the absence of prosperous farming our country can not stand, right?"
"Absolutely. These rife sheaves are guarantee of handsome amount of money, each sheaf will go for ten rupees, ten thousand sheaves and lac rupees income!"
"Wish, we had only a farm of 5 vigha, life would be more sustainable; I would just lie in there with my khatla."

Maanav and Dharam were lifetime friends. Each were capable of lending up to some thousands rupees to each other if there be need. None had farms yet they had established themselves in a way that nobody would deny them money in time of need. Maanav was good at study and Dharam was working in a garage as an accountant. Maanav studied outside of the village so he didn't have much knowledge of farming but he had understood the importance of farming from regular reading of newspapers.

The farmers usually start working in fields after a day or two from the Diwali festivals. Even local market opens only after a certain day from Diwali. So the days after Diwali and New year is the short period of contentment. People go out to meet there relatives, married girls come to parental home in this time. Maternal and paternal cousins are visited with joy. The happy young days are remembered and new promises of next visits are made.

This year had witnessed more rain than past four years. But at least there was enough water for necessary farming. On the next day of the new year some had parted the village and some had arrived to visit it. Children were still enjoying the reserved bundles of firecrackers. It was evening and the wind still invisible suddenly increased it's might. People now began to feel it. Those who were gossiping outside were startled. Someone even said," There was a prediction of possible rain in these days." The children were more joyous and they started shouting and screaming. 'I wish it is only wind.' spoke one of the standing men. He was perhaps a small farmer. But his small wish was not not granted. The rain took over the night without mercy.

The sun reclaimed it's authority as soon as the day began. The birds were chirping again joyously. Those who felt that they made a mistake this year by staying a day more in the village were relieved again with the rising sun. Now they could leave the village without any  difficulty. Some cattle grazers and farmers seemed reflecting on the apparent loss. How could one mourn the loss openly especially when it is not individual but shared by all?