A farmer stood in the middle of his field at noon. The farmer bent down and felt the shoots of green wheat. A proud but crooked looking smile appeared on his face. He walked over to the scarecrow. It had no face just hay stacked in farmer’s old olive green shirt with the stick to pin it to the ground. It looked nothing like a scarecrow. But nevertheless it worked on crows. The farmer straightened it and poked in the hay. He moved out of the field to where the bullock cart was near the open water tank. He struggled to climb on the bullock cart. He stuck the bullocks who by now knew what each misplaced stroke of the whip meant. He hurried home with a content heart.

In a primary school a class was reciting the varnamala. The students sat at their desks in neat rows. The walls of the classroom were covered with posters: a map of India, English alphabets with pictures of apples, mangoes, cherries, tomatoes, potatoes. In the front of the room, a white board had the pale scribbles from the last day’s lesson. The teacher peered up from the book, ‘A Child’s World’ and appeared to be pleased with the class effort. That lesson concluded, he walked around the class. He asked a student, “Recite the lesson that you learned yesterday. The boy stumbled as he took the support of the table to stand up. In a shaky voice he replied, “Mary had a little lamb, its fleece was red as snow.”

It was the time of dusk. An elderly couple sat on the porch enjoying their evening tea. The husband stretched his left hand in search of his wife’s and grasped it. The old lady smiled and blushed. The man then climbed out of his chair, took measured steps to the flower bed which had overgrown and now extended onto the porch. He reached for the flowers. Slowly and carefully he examined each one, feeling every petal and trying to take in the smell of each. He then carefully picked one flower. He rose and offered it to his wife. “Ah! A red rose! My favorite.” She tucked the yellow rose into her bun.

It was rush-hour in the far off city. The hustle and bustle of the vendors sounds of steady footsteps of the shoppers and Bollywood blockbusters being played in the pubs could be heard. There were street carts, some selling little trinkets while others selling chaats. There were all kinds of shops around like hardware, electronics, clothes, utensils, bookstore and many more. The electronics store had on display a number of TV sets. India vs Pakistan T-20 was being aired on all of them. A boy in rags was standing outside the electronics stores with an aluminum bowl to his left. He stood there listening to the match commentary. He cheered loudly as Yuvraj hit a six. The shopkeeper came out patted him on his head and said, “I know you are enjoying but keep it a little low.” His stomach grumbled. Today had been a lousy day. He heard clanking of heels. His face lighted up at the tinkling of a coin.

On the other street, a man got into his black Audi. He asked his driver to drive him to his home. His driver asked, “Sir, it’s going to rain today. I can see the grey clouds gathering. Can I please go home early?” The man replied, “Yes, I feel the advent of rain in the air.”

A little girl was dancing around in a dress far too big for her, covered in pink flowers. She turned this way and that way, looking at herself in the mirror. She climbed on the stool of the dressing table. As she took the support of the lotion bottle lying on the top shelf, it toppled. Although she managed to balance herself, the bottle of lotion fell down. It hit the ground with a loud ‘thud’. Her mother shouted from the other side of the room, “What did you do this time, Dolly?” Mother came in and walked right on the spilled lotion and was about to slip as one of her hand caught on the dressing table and the other was caught by Dolly. “Did you spill the lotion?” asked mother in a stern tone. Dolly fiddled with her dress and looked down sheepishly. After a little thinking, she pulled onto her mother’s saree and said, “How do I look in this dress, Mama?” Her mother broke into a little chuckle. She knelt down, caressed her hair and said, “It looks beautiful on you, my child.” A faint smile appeared on the mother’s face. It lingered before disappearing into darkness of her life.