Friday, 27 November 2015

the woman in the field.

The weather was ideal and prefect for strolling around the campus field. The sun was down and its orange rays dusted in the sky. In the distance the train travelled, hissing and its engine rumbling. On other days there would be farmers ramping up their days work and walking home. A typical Indian woman, in their beautiful sari one hand akimbo and balancing some load on their head. From behind I could calculate their steps, they would tread along in line laughing and joking with their counterpart.  Presently not a single sign of life was seen, it was pitch silent and I was a solitary walker. I walked along the path amidst the lush crops. The corn was in prime growth, the tall sugarcane leaves waved in the wind. Somewhere afar, lonesome shadow stood firm at the edge of the field. I reckon it was a girl, because her hairs were untied and fluttered in the air. She had a figure tall and slim, assumed to be sexy. I felt curious; it is unusual to find a girl alone and at this odd time. I gathered what if she was in trouble and needed some help or is she awaiting her lover? No not at this time and I retracted that notion.  As I got closer, i could distinguish even the outfit she wore. Red t-shirt and skin tight jean possibly a Levis or Denim. I could smell the expensive perfume she had applied. Those were the clues, she could not be farmer. Trend of her dressing got a northeast touch, even the perfume. The breeze came and swept her unkempt hair. I reached close to arms length, still she did not budge and neither she spoke.  Suddenly gush of wind came and she fell down, i plunged for a frantic rescue, only to discover that she was scarecrow in tight jeans and red t-shirt.