by M. Mohankumar
It was a gamble on the monsoon. Two crops
had failed, one after the other. But how could
he give it up, his only source of income?
The field lay parched under the blazing sun.
And then, late one evening, a cool wind blew,
bringing a scatter of rain. Next morning,
he ploughed the field with renewed hopes,
and waited. And when the monsoon broke,
sowed the last seeds of his dwindled fortune.
The smiling lush-green field brought cheer
to his heart. And then the clouds floated away;
and from a sterile sky the sun beat down,
scorching the earth. He sat scanning the sky
day after day, saw the plants wither, the grain
turning into chaff. And one evening, as the sun
dipped down the horizon, he struck a match
with trembling hands and threw it into the field,
and walked away to nowhere in particular.
Picture from https://www.flickr.com/photos/kinshukkashyap/
