By Neel Anil Panicker
Nelson stood in the foreground, his sweaty farmer’s face all lathered in soot, his bare torsoed still virile frame covered with the grime and toil of the day’s labour.
Watching the sea of ripened corn, its stalks standing so erect and proud, holding its ground against the onslaught of the Westerly winds that were blowing in from the sea half a mile away, Nelson felt his heart surge with pride.
He squinted his eyes as strobes of sunlight kissed past the half bent flowers that reached out from the low branches and rested on his gentle visage.
Sheela would have been happy, proud too, he recollected.
And why not? He had acted on his promise, fulfilled her last wish. Seen to it that the field that abutted their humble thatched house was full of greenery for one more season.
The thought of her made his eyes misty. Soon he was swept away in a wave of nostalgia as the horrific events of the year gone by began to play out in front of his eyes in an achingly slow moving fashion.
There he was, one moment, with Sheela and the two kids, all happily dipping into chicken bowls, a monthly rarity, and the very next moment they were all gone.
The earthquake came and left unannounced, destroying everything in its wake.
At the end of the minute long madness, the place was an island surrounded by the dead and the dying, the huts nonexistent, the earth flipping over like an upturned Christmas cake.
Nelson stood there, for God knows how long, and then stepped ahead.
It was time to move.
Time to live the vagabond’s life.
Time to wait for Nature’s next round of fury, for it to leave its indelible stamp all over.
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Three Things Challenge, 09 August 2018
Today’s things are: vagabond, island, stamp