As the melancholic notes of the harmonica filled the ear , Kancha knew that his grandfather was squatting in the big stone , his wrinkled hands deftly playing the mouth organ , those black gumboot and his sharp gaze as he looked towards the fields . Beside him was Shyando his faithful companion , a mongrel with coat as black as the ink in his father's Camlin ink pot .
Out as he stepped , a cool breeze flew in through the Rhododendrons he zipped his jacket and looked around , far away a white orb peeping through the scattered clouds , it was mid autumn the air had started losing its moisture , the trees were shedding leaves the entire of the small path leading to the fields , covered with thousands of dry leaves that would be collected to make the cows warm during night when the temperature would drop below 5 degrees , he took a deep breathe he could taste the soil in the air . He was in his favourite place .
'Oi, Kancha " cried his grandpa " Get that hoe from the storeroom and come here "
In he ran and as he switched on the light , the yellow light of the 60 watt bulb lightened the room . There under the raised platform stood the hoe , ready for the day's work , his appa's good old tool .
"Appa!" , he ran to his grandad . Here he beamed as he presented the hoe
" good boy " Appa ruffled his hair lovingly .
"Come here " his appa called " look , what do you see ?"
"seeds ? "
"yes, these are pea seeds."
"Now take some and spread them gently on the small valleys , he looked round Indeed ! his Grandfather had tilled small vertical hills and valleys along the long stretch of field.
Spread them gently and patiently not too many and not too less and while you spread have good thoughts and wish them luck and as you sow I will cover them with cow dung and soil . It will ensure that the seed is nurtured and cared for throughout winter and when spring knocks these courageous seeds that have persevered the harsh winter shall germinate and then we keep sticks the sticks ready for the sapling's support. "
Kancha nodded
Now listen as I say , Do you know why , I tell you not to run on these fields and walk through the sidelines ?
"Appa because the plants will get hurt . "
Correct , but that is not the only sole reason , you see these fields were tilled by my great grandfather , my grandfather , my father , the soil consists their blood sweat and tears . The happiness , the anguish the soil has seen them all and year after year provided us with something to take knowing that we have nothing to give , Our ancestors , the soil , the trees , every rock are one and one day as I close my eyes never to wake up know that I have become one with the soil here . Therefore when you run on the fertile womb of the fields , you are disrespecting the very reason of our existence .
Kancha nodded wisely .
And after a hard day's work , when the sun was just a mere dot on the farthest hill and the Dhruv Tara had come out , the birds were returning to their nests . Kancha returned to their house hand in hand with Appa and Shyando , walking through the sidelines .
