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It was two years back that I went to that place.It was a small village in the middle of cotton fields.The people there were relying on a town at about 3 miles away.Their everyday job is to remove the seeds in the cotton bunches and to spin the cotton to sell it at the weekend fairs.I stayed for about 5 days in this place at that time .There is a small story to tell about that village. There was a small statue in the middle of the schoolground.It was kept exactly at about 20 years ago by a poor freedom fighter.He had kept the statue of a women who had died in the freedom struggle.But all the village heads did not accept this and tried to demolish it.There was also a postmaster who had tried to safe guard it and prevented any intruders into the school. It was thus handed down to the teachers each year and they built four walls surrounding it and converted it into a school stage.Thus the lion lady who lost her life in the freedom struggle became the first person in the minds of small poor

I began to go back some years before when i was a child holding my arms with my grandma.I used to admire the whole world under her arms.The safety i felt was like branches which were held under the giant banyan tree.Every occation whether it was a village fair or a social union, i used to accompany her.I used to talk to my brother many things . Many things used to carry our tears to our grandma's.She lived and let liked by others especially the younger ones.Even nowadays when there occurs a friend's meet or family occations there will be long stories told which still carried us long back. Everyday goes like a lightening but the past which still lingers around us and the sweet feelings which made us still watered our life.

It was 6.00am in the morning. I opened the door to see the outside world. It was breezy.Everywhere it was surrounded by mist.I cannot go out. I sat in my stool in the veranda.I was trying to look through the window pane to find the sun. I tried to catch a glimpse of the sun on the top beside the coconut leaves.There was a orange light of the sun that hit my face.Suddenly I was forced to get away from the scene.I just took my sandals out of the shelf and tried to walk through the small pathway along the road.I saw small butterflies trying to catch the flowers and rest while flying.There was fresh dew drops in all the leaves in the pathway.It was nice to see the day with the new sun. Everyday i used to think the sun changed it's dress and it shined more.Each day nature shows it's own nightmares.It all coloured the dark and made the dawn. Everyday i returned from my morning walk i used to watch the birds and their nests.It was the same day for all the breadwinners.I counted the nu

I remember writing about nature in February four lines or some things which seemed quire satisfying to me. It was not so hot in that month but the scene changed. Summer began to scorch all. People all around complain about this summer very much. They say that it is like living in a desert. I was teeming with spirit to enjoy when the holiday started.But all in vain. And now I sit at home like a mouse in a small hole , timepassing or facing the hot sun through my window.Sometimes i used to think about the poor who live by the roads.No fresh water or fresh fruits that savour the tongue and the throat.Living in rags and dust and still yearning for alms.Might be they would die of thirst this time.Even I used to feed the poor to a certain extent.But now I pray god for some change in their lives.The rich often consider the poor but I pity the poor who always depend upon the rich though some are mean.Thus my summer would end by the four walls this time.