When the Rain forgot to fall

The land was dry .The soil cracked like broken glass and the winds carried nothing but dust. The skies had stayed empty for weeks,then months.Not a single drop of rain had touched the patched earth. It was  hot sunny days no one can bear to go outings with out bear head.The  flowers were withered. People suffers from heat waves , scarcity of water, but hope is still alive and every one said that "Rains may fall"

In Villages the farmers had  waited patiently ,their eyes scanning the skies each morning but the clouds refused to come among them was an old farmer with deep lines carved into his face ....lines that told  stories of harvests, losses and prayers. Every morning, he walked to his fields , looked at the lifeless stalks and whispered," May be today...May be today it will rain."

But the days passed the sun burned stronger The crops wilted,the wells dried and slowly, hope began to fade  like the mistake that never returned after dawn .

The village grew silent . Children stopped playing, elders stopped talking about next season and the farmers stopped bringing seeds to the soil.For what was the point  of showing dreams when the sky had turned it's background?

One evening a farmer sat alone under the neem tree .He didn't cry .He had cried enough.He simply looked up and said softly 

" Wegive the land our blood,All we ask for is a little water in return ."

But the sky remained silent.

And when hope dies in a farmers heart, something sacred in the world does with it . "The sky forget us"

I look at his eyes ...they full, not with teras.... But with waiting.And I know , when rains not fall, it's not only crops that die.... A little peace of us die too