Our Mindset Episode 21
Sunday morning arrived. He said, “Since the sugarcane is soaking, the goats don’t have grass to graze on. So, come along with the goats to the farm near the river. I’ll be staying there all day.”
Pradeep’s farm was near the well by the river. Since I had arrived, I hadn’t been to that farm, and I was curious to see the river and the well. “Finish your chores before I return from delivering the milk. Pack lunch, a pot, a tumbler, a bucket of water, lock the house, and bring the kids along.”
I finished my work, but I felt uneasy. Why was he always so enthusiastic about doing work for others? Why didn’t he feel the same about the tasks I asked him to do?
There was a lot to be done—getting the kids’ hair cut, buying mutton for them, chopping firewood, and going to the market. But he had put all of that aside to help Pradeep clean up his farm—for free.
After a while, the three of them arrived on foot. Pradeep didn’t have a vehicle; he used his bicycle. He carried a sickle, axe, hoe, and other tools on it. Then, we headed to the farm.
We let the goats graze freely in the open field. I spread a mat under a lemon tree for the kids to rest. Then, I suggested we first check out the river and the well.
Next to the well was Mangu’s farm, which had been freshly plowed. Once his aunt arrived, she planned to plant corn and vegetables there.
As I watched the flowing river, my eyes welled up. It brought back memories of my childhood school days. My hometown also had a river, and by its banks stood our Lakshmi Devi temple. During the Ashadha month, I used to visit the temple every Tuesday and Friday. I would sit there for fifteen to twenty minutes, watching the river, wondering where all that water came from. I was just a child then.
Whenever the river flooded, school would be canceled, and many families from the village would come to stay in our neighborhood. All of us would go together to see the swelling river.
Lost in those thoughts, I walked back to the farm. His aunt was pulling out thick grass with a hoe, while my husband was clearing bushes and trees. Pradeep was gathering everything into a pile. Everything had dried up.
In the neighboring field, an elderly man was watering his corn crop using a motor pump. I fetched a bucket of water for the goats from there. The old man called me over and gave me some corn and guavas. The kids were thrilled to see the guavas, and my husband was delighted with the corn.
Without wasting time, he grabbed a matchbox from the bicycle, built a small fire in the field, and roasted the corn. After lunch, we finished tidying up the farm, burned the pile of dried grass, and called for a tractor to plow the land. Then, we headed home.
By the time we got back, it was six in the evening. The buffalo had been fed and watered. We had tea, milked the cows, and the three of them left to deliver the milk.
Last Sunday, at least he had gone to the market. This Sunday, even that didn’t happen. Both Sundays had been spent helping his aunt. For him, making his aunt happy was more important than his wife’s happiness. What did it matter if his wife sulked for a while? She would eventually get up and get back to work.
That evening, I was preparing dinner in the kitchen when Balu passed by on his bicycle, carrying groceries. He stopped when he saw me and chatted until my husband arrived. Once my cooking was done, I made him a cup of tea.
Every time Balu came or left the village, he would stop by to chat. And whenever we sat talking, a certain vehicle would circle the road. The driver always had a scarf wrapped around his face. Balu would glance at him and chuckle. I never understood what was going on between the two of them.
While talking, Balu would always ask about me and my well-being. My husband returned with fritters. What else could we have for dinner at this hour? Fritters it was !