The scorching sun in the paddy fields would exhaust him , indescribably . Young men in the village now preferred working in the cities as day laborers for more motivating compensations. Hence, he had fewer helping hands , making his task as a laborer at the agricultural fields , more onerous. He would dream of working in the city and how it could be a passport to a smoother life . But , sometimes reality becomes the most obstinate barrier between our dreams and their realization. His reality was a father-less family with his mother and four younger siblings. He would rather toil as hard as was humanly possible to make ends meet than letting his younger siblings slog to supplement the meager household income. He worked in the evenings in the paper factory for a more hopeful month.
On his way to the paper factory, he would pause at the pond , beautifully adorned with water hyacinths , lending the water an aura of lavender . The ancient Banyan trees by the pond-side made for a perfect enclosure with mirror-images of a piece of sky and bouquets of tree leaves floating on the water. Occasionally , a cuckoo would create pleasant ripples in the air with its melody . However, it was “she”, waiting on the green carpet of grass under an ancient tree that was the soul of the retreat for him, the connection that he looked forward to every day. Her gentle , soothing presence was like a cool balm in his scorching days.They would sit on the green grass and adore the butterflies flutter through animatedly and observe flocks of birds flying in the evening sky and relish the enchanting water hyacinths float tirelessly on the sedentary water .Sometimes , they would chat to the treats of roasted peanuts and puffed rice . She had a story too, different but no less difficult . He would lend her a patient ear . They would smile, laugh, lament ,without inhibitions.
The setting sun in the orange horizon would announce the time to bid good bye . “Tomorrow, again”, they would affirm and smilingly walk towards their darkening ways.