As the sun raised it's heat, the intensity began to melt and burn everything weak around it. The leaves, ground, water and even the skin were not spared. In the small shelter at the corner of the farm, which Krishi called it his home, was lying a small crooked 'chaarpoy' at the corner. A woman around her mid-age, with fresh freckles and wary paleness on her skin, shivered under a dark blue, smelly still warm blanket. The strength of the sun could not catch her soul. The fever had reached it's peak now and there was nothing that Krishi could do about it, except care for her and be with her. Being a farmer, with this situation, there was no one around to take care of his dying and half burnt farm. The perennials were way too before perished in the fire. the farm was a barren land in the hope to emerge again from it's own ashes. The poverty was now gulping his entire existence now. Moreover, to add to his impending worries, his 10 year old son Pravar had gone to his distant relative for his summer vacations.
In the evening, while putting some wet, warm soaked cloth on his wife's forehead, he heard a loud noise from the sky which felt as if the planet was crumbling into pieces. The sound grew louder and louder and then, ended with a loud thud and the ground shook vigorously for a few seconds. Krishi ran outside at the top pace, his heart pounding wildly and fearfully. Once outside, he could not believe what his eyes saw. A large ship like thing had crashed into his door with the pieces scattered around half a mile across. The parts were light years away from the question of repairing but at that moment, Krishi did not care about the parts. His heart was leaping slowly, as he moved himself close to the airship hoping what he feared the most. As he peeped through a broken window, there lay a human body inside gasping for breathe and trapped inside his own protective gear. Second thoughts about this whole thing encircled Krishi as he was about to move away from the entire scene. But the thought about bad omens changed his mind. He crashed the piece of metal with his one strong, rusty hand and pulled out the dying man out of the bonds and carried him to his hut, on his shoulder. Having learned the first aid process from his old man , he tried to breathe him back to life. Fortunately, he could feel a weak pulse and a light breathing, as he covered all his wounds with the white clean cloth teared apart from his shirt. As the health care centre was over a half an hour walking distance, he had to get going by the time it got all dark outside. He carried the person over to his wooden handcart and began pushing the cart to the destination while his wife was fast asleep on the cot.
As he reached the health care premises, the injured man, suddenly grasped his hand and pulled it towards him with all the little might left within him. As Krishi bent towards him, he tried to speak something but all he could hear was a gasp of thin air puffing out of the mouth. He hurriedly carried him to the hospital and handed him over to the doctors. As he was returning to his ailing wife, the doctor, who knew him personally, thanked him as he had checked the man just in time. Otherwise, it would have been too late. Heaving a sigh of relief, he returned home walking the dark road.
Years passed after his wife's sudden death and Krishi was the sole caretaker of both, his son and his farm. Although the condition of the farm was not improved, he had made peace with his fate and lived a life of wariness and mental harassment that had engulfed him completely. One fine morning of autumn, there was a knock on his door. He was surprised as nobody had knocked his doors in years, except that time when the relatives had come to say goodbye to his dead wife. He opened it and a stranger wearing a suit and glares handed him an white, shiny envelope which was quite heavy when he took it. He enquired about it but just got a reply " read it yourself". As he closed the door behind him, there was a letter tucked in the bundle of money which he took out. The man whom he had saved years ago was an aerospace engineer and had written to ask his permission to adopt his farm and his family which included himself and his now 19 year old son Pravar.
The thunder in his heart knew no bounds as he sat on the ground still holding the letter as if it was an alien. The wariness, distress, poverty, tolerance had finally met their fate of tragic deaths. The burning earth around Krishi was suddenly cooled down.
In the evening, while putting some wet, warm soaked cloth on his wife's forehead, he heard a loud noise from the sky which felt as if the planet was crumbling into pieces. The sound grew louder and louder and then, ended with a loud thud and the ground shook vigorously for a few seconds. Krishi ran outside at the top pace, his heart pounding wildly and fearfully. Once outside, he could not believe what his eyes saw. A large ship like thing had crashed into his door with the pieces scattered around half a mile across. The parts were light years away from the question of repairing but at that moment, Krishi did not care about the parts. His heart was leaping slowly, as he moved himself close to the airship hoping what he feared the most. As he peeped through a broken window, there lay a human body inside gasping for breathe and trapped inside his own protective gear. Second thoughts about this whole thing encircled Krishi as he was about to move away from the entire scene. But the thought about bad omens changed his mind. He crashed the piece of metal with his one strong, rusty hand and pulled out the dying man out of the bonds and carried him to his hut, on his shoulder. Having learned the first aid process from his old man , he tried to breathe him back to life. Fortunately, he could feel a weak pulse and a light breathing, as he covered all his wounds with the white clean cloth teared apart from his shirt. As the health care centre was over a half an hour walking distance, he had to get going by the time it got all dark outside. He carried the person over to his wooden handcart and began pushing the cart to the destination while his wife was fast asleep on the cot.
As he reached the health care premises, the injured man, suddenly grasped his hand and pulled it towards him with all the little might left within him. As Krishi bent towards him, he tried to speak something but all he could hear was a gasp of thin air puffing out of the mouth. He hurriedly carried him to the hospital and handed him over to the doctors. As he was returning to his ailing wife, the doctor, who knew him personally, thanked him as he had checked the man just in time. Otherwise, it would have been too late. Heaving a sigh of relief, he returned home walking the dark road.
Years passed after his wife's sudden death and Krishi was the sole caretaker of both, his son and his farm. Although the condition of the farm was not improved, he had made peace with his fate and lived a life of wariness and mental harassment that had engulfed him completely. One fine morning of autumn, there was a knock on his door. He was surprised as nobody had knocked his doors in years, except that time when the relatives had come to say goodbye to his dead wife. He opened it and a stranger wearing a suit and glares handed him an white, shiny envelope which was quite heavy when he took it. He enquired about it but just got a reply " read it yourself". As he closed the door behind him, there was a letter tucked in the bundle of money which he took out. The man whom he had saved years ago was an aerospace engineer and had written to ask his permission to adopt his farm and his family which included himself and his now 19 year old son Pravar.
The thunder in his heart knew no bounds as he sat on the ground still holding the letter as if it was an alien. The wariness, distress, poverty, tolerance had finally met their fate of tragic deaths. The burning earth around Krishi was suddenly cooled down.
