Bangalore has been lashed by heavy rains - late this year, too late to save my crop of lentils and millets - the well has been dry all summer long, the earth crumbly and brown.
However, when I approached my farm this time, I saw that the earth was green and blue! The land wore a surreal sheen and clouds floated across the once barren land. Giving a whoopee I ran down the path and plunged into moving, shaky, splashy earth - my slippers got caught in the grime under - had to plunge elbow deep to tear them out - ouch, ouch, ouch, the vile touch me nots were jabbing my feet under water - but no matter! what did I care! Muniamma, my farm help, laughed at my enthusiasm for water and followed me at a more modest step.
The earth at the upper levels was also soggy wet and the water tank that collected rainwater was full to its lip...the barren well was two thirds filled with reddish-brown water - not fit to drink yet - but a happy enough sight..roses bloomed in a hundred shades of pink and the vines were dotted with periwinkle blue flowers. It was time for some serious work - soft earth would make the clearing easy, digging a delight.
While the sun blazed down scorching our backs, we worked, Muniamma and I, clearing, chopping and replanting - adding to sections of the green fencing, mulching with tall grasses, burying seeds, bulbs. I harvested one single tiny brinjal for sambhar, and a few star fruits. We worked till it seemed that layers of skin would peel off in chocolate wafers and sweat trickled down our backs.
And then - sudden dark - clouds rolling in fast - at a touchable height, greay, dark and inviting threatening...we stretched up to gaze even as huge polka dots splashed our faces - no point seeking shelter - we grinned and stuck our tongues out to catch pristine drops straight in our mouths.
I am lucky to have my farm...
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