Beyond The Obscured Clouds
(Pic Credits: quotefancy.com) A chirping sparrow flew towards the old banyan tree and sat in his nest, cozying against the settling evening. The tree had stood in the farm since ages. It had withstood rain, storm, unimaginable natural calamities and atrocities of time as well. So primordial, that tree now formed the soul of the farm. It had witnessed everything. The warm gentle breeze flew southwards and the sunlight had toned itself down. The faintly visible crescent moon was now hanging desolately in the blue eastern sky while the sun was gently sinking towards nothingness. The farmer was now done with his day's toil and was packing off his belongings. He put the tiffin-box in his rag satchel with the insecticide container latched onto his back. Then he went to get the bullocks, who were busy grazing, munching on the soft green grass. He bought both of them near the cart and started to fasten them to it. The bullock-cart was now almost ready as he loaded the stack of hay