Meditations on a Dewdrop

AS I stepped inside I noticed something which I hadn’t all these years. Initially it sounded like a shower bringing memories of monsoon. Was I imagining? Were my ears fooling me, playing tricks? It couldn’t be. It’s already the first week of December and the rains had become history.
I felt a slight chill while the surroundings remained clothed in silence and the sun screened on the other side by the Moringa duo and coconut palms began its ascent.
Tip… Tip…Tip… it dropped on the fallen leaves around the bamboo groove. And when I nudged the turmeric leaves it came down like a stream—the dew drops. It was the sun prodding the dew to move ahead and drop… tip…tip…tip…
I moved around in my soggy shoes while my trouser legs dripped.
The joys of farming are limitless.


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