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The Making of Me II

The spring would be the time to start the farm works. This is the busiest time of the year in farmer’s diary. The farmers will be all involved in cultivating their crops. The groups of farmers would be seen going to the field with a sickle in their hands and men with an axe. The smoke would be seen emanating from freshly prepared field so-called tseri cultivations. The terraces would be filled with mud and water and the sounds of men driving the oxen during the plough would be familiar voices around the villages. The shrubs will be soon cleared and big trees would be fallen down. The dry and hot sun don’t deter this spirited farmers working but for their stomach. The plants would soon bear beautiful flowers and the countryside would go wild green. Birds flock in to start their work too for breeding and making their nest. The delicate scent of these freshly budded flowers would soon fight the head turning bad smell. The last work for the season would be weeding the crops and wait until it is it is time for harvest.

The works would continue till the summer emerges. This is time that the flowers are fully budded. Many wild animals would find solace here in the grasses and attack the fresh crops. The birds would build their nest in every trees and maize plants. The cucumbers are seen hanging from the ropes, the village turns out literally a jungle with maize plants outgrowing the height of men. If you walk inside this field, the snakes will be roaming and threatens your life. But there are opportunities too. Succulent fruits will be hanging down from every tree. It is time to taste your capacity in eating. Jackfruits, cucumbers, bananas, Oranges will be found in galore in the field. With cattle out of the village, there would be no milk and its products to have. Yet, this is the time when villages are filled with true of its colour.

There will be competition among men and animals for the crops. The wild boars, monkeys, deer would ravage the crops if you don’t remain alert under the cover of darkness. The only means of keeping them away are building scarecrows imitating the presence of human. The huts will be built in every corner of the field and people will elude their sleep and keep banging the corroded tins and sing with this unfamiliar music. Some who are lazy would wake up in the morning to find that their stock of the year is ravaged by these creatures. While, some would enjoy the fresh meat of wild animals caught in the traps and snares they have set up either to protect their field and enjoy their meals.

Summer would soon give way to autumn. The maize plants in the field are graying, the sign of maturity. The grasses are drying up, winter is not far away. The people would be engaged and engrossed with harvesting of maize and other crops. The cattle would be brought back to relish the maize plants in the harvested field. The monkeys will be rarely seen. With nothing to eat in the village, the monkeys will be back in the wild looking for the optional fruits. The people will be seen drying their maize corns, eating the beaten maize and dried fruits. The orange trees in the orchard are just flowering. The trees in the jungle are slowly shedding their leaves and few birds and animals are seen in proximity.

It is again back to the winter timetable. The cycle would go on till how long. But, since, I have been here in the urban areas for so long, such charm and magic of the village life are long forgotten. I have now become addicted to what we call the urban attraction. The people who are still living in the village still find its own charm and magic. It is often noticed, the son working in the town would resort to bring their parents who are old and could not work in the field to live with them. They are fed, watered and served to their every need, yet, they are never satisfied of it. They are found to lament that they are born in the village and they wish to die in their village. For them, the village they have lived for so long is nothing but the heaven for them. They have become attached with their farmland, the trees, the path, animals, the houses and all they have back home. Such is their strong sense of belonging to their so called Phazhing or Phayul. So, the life is village is not always the curse as we say, atleast for them who have learned to enjoy the real bliss of rural life.

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