Four

Abstract

It had poured in Gauwally. A steady, heavy, ungrudging downpour. All the tanks and ponds were filled to the brim in a single shower. With the pits and streams in and around Gauwally overflowing with foam-flecked water, the frogs that had so far maintained a clam-like silence, croaked their presence, making the air strident with their screams. The fields of Gauwally had been summer-ploughed well, cleared of stubble and seasoned with manure. Soaked now by the monsoon rains they exuded a rich aroma, the pleasant pungent smell that sun-seared earth yields after soaking up the first spell of rains. Children stood thrusting their faces into the beating rain. Hailstones left their faces smarting and yet, mouths open, they kept swallowing the bits of frozen rain.