Saturday, September 13, 2008


He ran with all his might. Tiny dried leaves and mud got stuck to his feet. His face and hands were all wet. The wind troubled him by making his unruly hair fall on his face. The rain drew wet patterns on his clothes.
At the edge of the field the clump of mango trees started. He had spent many happy hours there in the summer. But now in the rain he did not like it at all. The leaves were like rough licking tongues, the wet stems of the creepers seemed like slimy snakes. The narrow continuous stretch of sky above the clump was like a long grey snake spitting out venom from every inch of its body. The drops pierced Nitin.
As if to hide the absent minded patterns on Nitin's shirt the rain started painting his entire shirt with its wetness.
As the clump came to an end he got a hazy view of the old temple. He ran towards it only to find it closed. There was not even a little shade near it.
When he came to the last field it was flooded. His hut was a small island on the other side of it. Swimming through the water would take him faster across it.The kite was already wet but he wanted to save it as much as he could. So he waded through the flooded field.
It seemed to him as though the field would never end. It was the very old field where he had played so many times with other village boys. But now it looked like a sea of murky grey water. He could not see the hut anymore. He did not even know whether he was in the right direction.
The water was rising. At first it was up to his thighs, now it touched the tail of the kite, that was at his waist. Something slimy touched his feet. It was a snake from the pond. As the pond had got mixed with the flood water snakes were moving everywhere. With anger, disgust and sorrow Nitin moved on.
(The rest of the story will appear next week)

1 comment:

Art and Poetry said...

The story is going well people in England would really like this type of story!