A day in my Village – the Quintessential India
The Sun begins to rise gradually, spilling golden rays of light over the soaring mountains. A gentle
breeze drifts through the lush green paddy fields; flocks of birds emerge from their aerie, performing
spectacular aerial displays in the dazzling morning sky. Down below, the sleeping village, tucked away
inside the green valley, awakens to the sound of thundering temple bells. Suddenly it is teeming with life
as the villagers appear, welcoming the new day and attending to their daily morning chores.
An old farmer starts to his field with his pair of bullocks and a plough in the narrow, cobbled streets. His
hair is an aging, brisk silvery, his black, wrinkly skin sags on his well built frame-he is old yet strong, his
black eyes, calm yet sharp and wary of the beast’s movements. Behind him, a young boy just into his
teens whistles merrily whilst taking his reluctant sheep to graze in the nearby pastures beside the lazy
river. In the surrounding houses, people sit under shady Banyan trees, eating refreshing watermelon and
grandfathers engage themselves in games of country side and cards.
As the day progresses however, the peaceful atmosphere of the village is slowly heated by the activities
of different institutions like Schools are swarmed by the young boys and girls, revenue and other
government offices are flocked by persons either seeking different benefits and schemes or seeking
different certificates. By mid-day, the taverns are overflowing with people who have come to the village
for different purposes, and the mouthwatering smell of juicy kebabs roasting on spits lingers in the air.
In the baking heat of the afternoon, the hillside grounds are scattered with teams of kids playing
different games under the shelter of the woods. Children splash happily in the cool clear streams of the
river that flow nearby. They jump from rock to rock occasionally falling in, squealing with laughter.
In the heart of the village, a group of teenagers slouch at a café, gossiping and boisterous as the sun sets
overhead splashing the sky in a vivid brilliance of red, orange and pink. As dusk descends, the crowds of
tourists slowly begin to depart. The lines of buses and lavish cars, head back from whence they came,
leaving the village to rest from the hectic day.
The silhouettes of two fishermen appear upon the small, shimmering lake as the light begins to fade.
Silence descends the village and the temple’s bell rings sending the gods to the sleep for the day
marking the end of day for the village too.
