Western Winds

He was watching the fields from the dark shadowy arch of his house and feeling as if the rice fields where calling Kishen joo loudly.

Moon with its milky light ,was playing with her twinkling Stars like a compassionate mother itching out the hairy head of her kid.The speedy wind from the west was as if combing the rice fields.

It was just few days ahead that the festival called "DHAY BATTA"(thanks to Local Deity) was to be organised ....... where he would thank he deity for his crop and start the harvest.

All of a sudden he had some negative thoughts.....What if the deity becomes angry with him.
He was relentlesly trying to convince himself about the good actions that he has done.

He had donated to the local Yatim Khana(orpahanage) ......what if they where muslim kids and studying koran.He had faith ... and beleived that God understands Humanity not religion.

He was a staunch kashmiri Brahmin and winds from west where blowing his faren away but he was holding it tight...to his body ..yet at times letting it go and flutter....Looking at the crop sometimes he was feeling proud abt his ancestral property ...at times egoist for being the richest in village ..yet next moment he would be nervous and pretent that all belonged to god...

Fear of god was keeping him tamed to the orchestra of humanity...It was midnight but this 60 year Pandit had no intentions of sleeping.

Even if it meant making Jhajhiiir (Traditional Hooka) and desturbing others intentionaly.

His wife and mother were snoring .His son had just flung in his final year.

He wanted to leave the village and catch the next bus for Delhi.He was a new breed of Pandits who would mind drinking liquor ,eat non veg and watch first movie show on friday.

The tussle between the father and Son was invisible but the women in the family would frown if Kishen Joo would brawl while having dinner. All eyes would point to his son Ravi.

Ravi was not worrying him at all for his future was secure . He was retired two years back and whole village knew abt his Post office account which had 50000 Indian rupees in his name.He would even tell this to a new born baby much before that baby would have been given christened.

Things where fine but not for long...he was never able to get the post office money back..He longed for a sinlge penny on a footpath in Bombay away from his land ...selling tea .... What changed his life???What was it that blew his home apart...Western winds could never take his Farren Off ..then how did they manage to blow his whole life Off..Watch out this blog or post to me..I ll let you knoew