Goodmorning Sunshine!

[A beautiful morning in a village in Assam, my motherland of unparalleled beauty]

When the cocks crow in the morning, it is barely daylight in the village. Yet, there is no room for lazy morning extended naps for those who rely upon the seasonal harvest for their livelihood. Indeed, it would be astounding for a city-dweller who was born and brought up amongst the mid-day hustle and bustle of the metros, to find such hectic activity in the early parts of the day. 

Having grown up in the village, Sunil Lal was quite used to the din at sunrise. He opened his eyes and slowly sat up on the bed. His wife had already been up half an hour ago. There was cooking to be done for all the twelve of the family members and the 11 local hands that had been hired to help with the planting of paddy. The wife of the head of the family had to take charge of the kitchen, which otherwise would run into utter disarray under the chaotic daybreak circumstances. Sunil Kumar was one of the richest farmers in the region. He was also the village head and school headmaster. 

It was not this rosy before. His roots lay in a poor landless family. For forty years of his life, he toiled harder than the bullocks that pull wobbly carts. He sacrificed his higher education to take care of his siblings when their father died. It was a slow rise to where he is now. But it did result in good things and now he was very well off. He was a content man, determined to do no wrong and help those who were less fortunate than he was.

Like he did every morning, Sunil first ambled down to the well to brush his teeth and wash up. The day seemed to be progressing as usual. The spawning of sunlight, the emergence of dew drops on the tips of the grass blades, the occasional draught that blew from the lakeside and the unrest in the pig sty caused by the disgruntled pigs digging around in the mud: these were some of the dozen things that heightened his senses out of the drowsy stupor. 

Once the personal activities were done, he proceeded to have his tea with Pithas*. This was a very crucial part of the morning since all the instructions to the hired farmers and laborers were given during his breakfast. In return they would update him on the work done the previous day. It was a very well organized affair where each member efficiently did his part without fail. For the past decade or so, things had been nearly the same every year. Sunil was not a man who liked too many changes. If he were to foretell the future, he would have predicted the same things that happened this year for the next. 

After a hearty meal, he patiently supervised the various chores that occupy the entire morning: feeding the pigs, casting the net over the pond to separate the breeds of fishes, tending to the cows and goats. The day seemed to have started very well for Sunil, although he was a little concerned about the swine flu rumors that were making rounds everywhere. The only other concern for him was the faint memory of a slight tiff he had the other day with a surrendered militant who was working for the local politician. The politician was a corrupted individual, much to the dislike of Sunil. Although he harbored no political ambitions of his own, he was quite interested in the political developments and was determined to do his part in choosing the right people to govern the region. 

But the disturbing thoughts were soon conquered once again by the pressing need to hurry and get ready as the children and he himself were getting late for school. The school ran on meager funds and he always had to run helter-skelter to meet higher officials to plead their cause. The percentage of students who cleared the 10th standard exam had drastically improved from a mere 23% to 40% under his disciplined leadership. But he wanted more. The state standards were close to 60%. He had high hopes for the next year and wanted to do everything possible to improve the education levels in the village. He often thought of his own children, the eldest of whom would be appearing for matriculation exam in two years. He himself could never go beyond a bachelor’s degree due to his father’s premature death. But his children should do well. Why not? He had taught them all he could. Money was no longer an issue. Sunil believed that not much can go wrong if well planned. All that a person needs to do is to complete his responsibilities well, help those who are less fortunate and have faith in God. Everything falls into place. 

Sunil’s fears were allayed; at least for a while. He loved his children and his wife; and he loved his birthplace. Yes, everything should fall into place: maybe next year.

With these thoughts, he completed wearing his trademark white shirt and brown trousers, and the old leather chappals, cracked at the edges. The youngest son was just finishing wearing his shirt. There was a button missing near the belly. He reproached his son for not bringing it to the notice of the mother. But that had to be attended to later. Lifting his son up, he proceeded towards his cycle. The elder son had his own cycle. Together they cycled down the mud path cut between the fields. 

Sunil felt a sudden surge of happiness, as if he was young once again. He remembered his teenage days when he used to run around half naked in these fields, bathing in the crystal blue stream that flowed past the village outskirts, climbing trees and chasing cattle. Time has elapsed between then and now, he mused. 

Life is beautiful, he thought. He prayed silently for the happiness to continue.

Just around the bend where the mud path reached the gravel road, there was the school. He set his son down as the elder one cycled on. The locals who were passing by greeted him and he stopped to return the greetings after sending his son off. They treated the headmaster with great reverence. They exchanged news about their respective kith and kin and passed on. 

After seeing them off, Sunil turned around to head back towards the school. There was a motor bike approaching with a droning sound from behind. He could feel it heading towards him and he turned around once again. It stopped a few feet away from him. They were very young boys. Identifying them to be school dropouts, he prepared himself to confront them and took a step towards them. 

And then the pillion rider took out a gun and shot four bullets into him. He did not miss. 

Life is beautiful. Things do fall into place, don’t they?

*Pitha: Assamese snack made of rice flour, sugar and coconuts.