It was a warm morning hearlding a clear day, the clouds hanged above lazily and the breeze blew over the tilled and sowed fields. The hillocks the bounded the edges of the paddy acreage stood as a valiant guards, protecting Kisan’s crop from impending danger of God knows what.
But Kisan had been expecting the looming grey clouds across the other side of the sky to bring him the good news of a plentiful shower for the final irrigation of his field. How had he been impatiently waiting for the Rain God to alight on his field, bless it by quenching its thirst. And after this last sprinkling, miser Kisan will make a fair profit of his crop without spending much for its tending and growth.
Yes, it was a sunny morning until it rained and along the overflooded irrigating canals, it brought the endless joy for the farmer.
The weather pleasantly unleashed its offering of the raindrops. But as moments passed by, a loud roar of thunders split from the black clouds and then Krishna smiled to himself, looking at the sea of green in front.
After stealthily drawing the adjacent irritating pipes from the next field to water his own, and now waiting for the nature to show its monsoon grandeur, Kisan had successfully managed to be at the top of misery game.
Only things took an unpredictable turn. The rain transformed to a storm, the water lashed the fields, the canals brimmed. The crops swayed to and fro with the gushing wind. The rain didn’t stop itself. It went on and on, rampaging on the labour of Kisan, on his less of a hard-work and more of his smart-work.
He wondered why had he not trimmed the field before the harvest festival could begin, or why could he not just store the seeds and the crop in the sill and managed to earn a fair profit too.
Not a careful thought struck his head, money muddled his mind. The smart-work seemed to ease his burden of labour, labour he hadn’t done really much except planning when and how he’ll use the water of the next field or shift the bund separating both fields a little or to start a quarrel accusing the other side of unfair playing. His mind worked, but his body did not.
The next morning, the sunrays peeped through the clouds, and this time bringing in the news that one can less expect any storm or shower in the week but bright, clear days. Kisan glanced at the neighbouring field, its paddy harvested and neatly sold to flour factories. But there remained him, reflecting on his bad luck, his head resting on his fisted hand, looking at his devastated field.
Maybe, every creation of God has two sides, but then again karma too exists to teach one a good lesson.
Varied hues 