Sunday, December 14, 2008

A short story of an Indian Farmer..




I was glaring at the sky with a hope that it would rain. Years have gone and seasons have changed, but yet it didn’t rain. It last rained on the monsoon season of 2006.That was a profitable year for us and we enjoyed farming. But now, things have changed.

Drought has not let us sleep peacefully. Barren lands have made our lives barren, drought has lead to devastation, destruction and despair. In Vidharba, many of my companions have committed suicide just because of this. The cuckoo is also not singing as if it is also silently mourning the death. If tears could quench the thirst of the lands, then we would never have to wait for rains anymore. Our tears would have been more than sufficient for our land. With this drying of lands, our hopes and life have dried.

I am a Marathi farmer, a proud son of Maharashtra. I some times feel what our government has done for us. Where is the money? I don’t have enough money to repay the loan that I had borrowed from Bank of Vidharba .My 7 children are starving for food. My people are dying, my crops have perished.

My family is dependent on me and I’ m dependent on Indra.If rain god Indra disappoints me then I will give my life and disappoint my family members. They are the one who look at me with hopes and expectations everyday and I could not see them in pain.

“I want an answer from you or I will come to you,” I said looking at the sky which was not showing any signs of rain.

Today I am going to see, wheter its INDRA or me..I soon turned to my room. I tried to hang myself under the ceiling. As I fixed the rope on my neck, the bright sky turned dark. It was showing sign of rains.”Baba,bagh, Paus padla(look, dad its raining!!),”my youngest son came running towards me. I was happy and finally I believed that INDRA has opened his eyes.

Darkness usually symbolizes despair, but it has brought us new ray of hope which the brightness couldn’t .The water of the clouds have washed away the tears of the farmers who had surrendered to the poverty and dryness of life.Finally,it was raining after two years and happiness all around my village and amongst friends.


word count:392

8 comments:

  1. sorry I'm going to kill the farmer

    "Baba, rain". Youngest boy came running to my room. I turned back but the stool I stud lost balance. Rope tightened. Now I can see the wind taking the clouds away and the following blue line in the end..

    sorry stephan.. Most time real life is like this na..

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  2. wow.....liked it...

    different thought of writing a short story...i am trying to write short stories as well...!!!

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  3. Awesome story.
    :o
    At randeep
    Man, you're sadistic.
    :P
    But yea. Ur right. Life is like that most of the time.

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  4. @ Riversoul
    I'm not a sadist:(

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  5. At randeep.

    No offence meant, dude
    :)
    It was just a joke
    :)
    Hope you ain't offended.
    :)
    I'm sorry.
    :(

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  6. hey no fights guys

    and thanks every one for the comments :)

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  7. pata nahi this was for which contest , but more than the whole post , I loved the last paar sooo much !!! truely deep lines ..typically Ste's style !!

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