sound of rain drops, sannapureddy &swatee sripada [summer reading list .TXT] 📗

jumping from the corners of the roof.
It seems all the roads turned in to streams and all the rivers with floods might have transformed in to Penna Rivers.
Some one’ sheep herd awakened it seems – the bleat of the sheep.
On the north of the village the high sound of hill brook made the ears blocked.
By dawn no water source remained empty.
Breaking the banks some, overflowing the sluices some….
He felt like Laughing as he saw the big winnowing basket …………………… the lone helper…suddenly he chuckled …..
She raised her eyes to look him.
“Shall I tell you the story of three winnowing baskets?”Still laughing he said.
“Yes” she accepted.
Before the narration he laughed again.
“A couple exactly like us …poor house… exactly this way the mid log was
Rotten and an old hut…rainy season … if it rains the same trouble for them too…
In the ♦Swati Karte an old relative arrived at night time. That night rain….a heavy rain…
Accommodated the relative, provided him the cot and quilt and they slept down. The rain turned heavy. The roof started leaking. The cot was saved but at their place it was leaking. They got up, searched for a shelter without leak and sat down. after a while it started leaking on the cot too.
The relative and squatted on it moving side to side but of no use..
Sitting on one side of the wooden plank, No not appropriate… no shelter to avoid the rain.. He saw a ragged quilt on the cot and covered him self with it. After a while that too turned wet. He couldn’t understand what to do.
“If I am like this, what about the couple…” he surveyed the hut in a lightening. On the northeast corner both were seen huddled together as if glued to each other. They didn’t sit simply. Each covered their heads with winnowing baskets- the water fall on them slithered down across… a good idea to prevent wetting. Of I too can get one…how nice it would be to hide the head!” Searched the whole house in lightening…… No third winnowing basket…
Sitting gloomily on the cot he then uttered “if one heads a family, he should have three winnowing baskets. What an impoverished house is this?”
But they both never moved from the corner…” she couldn’t control the laugh.
With tinkling the laugh continued…
Suddenly a harsh noise of something breaking…………. and immediately a thud of something falling in the street shaking the earth………
She was shocked
Scared of the deafening sound breaking the ear drums, she turned to him all at once.
Her head leaned onto his chest.
Hands circled him.
“The neem branch might be broken…” with this, stroking her back to relieve her from fear, Shiva huddle her close warmly.
Without letting her to return to her original posture he held her close.
They never felt the need of a big winnowing basket now.
A small one is enough.
No need of two bodies.
One is enough.
They lost the consciousness of the world.
Strom wind, rain drops as big as pebbles, blinding lightening, thunders breaking ear drums, floods of streams, reservoir’s overflowing din, the falling of drops on them……….. Nothing recalled to their minds.
The big winnowing basket turned out as an umbrella had a surprise.
Hither to cuddled couple under its shade now forgot its presence completely. Water from the log falling on them in stream, but to the big winnowing basket it sounded “chuy” chuy” as if falling on hot iron evaporating.
It too heard the story of three winnowing baskets.
The experience it had from this couple, it sensed a flaw in that story.
Being such a big figure in the present story I had no value at all, then how could the two in that story gain such a worth?


2.
By morning, the rain slackened and the sky cleared.
People started sweeping their untidy premises filled with leaves and log dirt. Carrying wastes on heads, they moved to the out skirts of the village.
The hens were searching leaves of the broken neem tree branches for insects and worms.
Shiva collected the broken leaves and branches from the premises and dumped them at the backyard.
When the branches were lifted The chicks searching for worms with their mother fell down like slithered cotton balls.
The jumping water sound of the overflowing ponds and the din of water falls together was heard at a high pitch.
Shiva was interested in it alone.
A girl in a new sari behind the branches, whose face was not very clear, sweeping the premises- the scene, was understood. People congregated there to look at the stranger, realized who she was and expressed their surprise.
At the conclusion of the storm, as if the winged white ants breaking their hills at night assembled around the lamps at homes, within no time all the ladies of the village amassed at of Shiva’s premises.
They reprimanded Shiva’s mother Lakshmama”. Oyo. An oldie! Without giving her a bath with sandalwood paste brought the new daughter in law home? They are warm blooded. Don’t you have any brains?”
They yelled at Shiva too “what is this? Without giving a scrumptious treat and sweet brought your wife in”.
Gowri too was not an exception “Not this way girl…after giving pan leaves and nuts to all the married women and prostrating yourself to the male.
Then you should enter the mother in law’s home.”
Whatever it might be every one praised Gowri, and compared her to a raw turmeric piece and sleekness as a lightning.
They said they are made for each other. with muddy feet Pushing and pulling each other they went in.
Without deeming Gowri’s feelings, close relatives took her in, behind the bamboo mat pored water on head, after giving a bath donned her new clothes.
They dragged Shiva too holding his arm, poured a pot of water on him too and made him a new.
Mixing rice grains, turmeric and lime they applied it on their bodies with a traditional wedding song.
“Fetch the people to smear the paste–along with♥ Radha, Rukmini.
Fetch them to smear..” started with a melodious ♥“Nalugu” song and folk literature flooded there……….
The old people inspired others warming them up “if you don’t sing, they will get dumb children, sing ….sing …” the programme continued graciously.
Shiva waited for a chance to leave the place feeling odd.
He felt like running away from the midst of ladies.
He thought of running to the reservoir as soon as he gets up.
But with the leaves and branches on the road the path was blocked and he was compelled to stop and had a disastrous fate of trapping in the hands of women.
The din of jumping water never allowed him to stay at a place.
Feeling to fly away to jump vehemently in to the flow of red water in the stream……….
Men of the village might be on the bank of the stream, brushing their teeth with a neem stick till it gets ragged off. They pace up and down the bank till the hunger flutters in their bellies. They never wash even their faces.
Once or twice he endeavored to escape and moved out but the women caught him and dumped him back.
Before the “NALUGU” ritual concluded, Shiva got up and without looking back ran forth to the stream with long strides that turned in to a scuttle as soon as he left the village.
Without answering the people he met, he targeted a volley of question at them, about the volume of the tank, its water level……… Without waiting for their answers he surfaced out on the bank.
The stream had red water ripples over crowded. The over flow sound of the sluice at a distance….
The dead flies in heaps and heaps on the bank of the stream………Their wings stuck on the fences and grass ….
Along with the tiny waves the dry leaves thrust forth on to the bank and piled up on the water surface.
Shiva couldn’t constrict his happiness.
He ran a distance on the bank and with the wedding clothes he jumped cogently in to the womb of the stream.
Contentedly dived..
Cordially swam..
The yellow rice grains stuck in his hair joined the water.
The sandal wood paste smeared on his body perfumed the red water.
Swimming and swimming till the pain of four years famine dissolved …to forget the wounds of migrated life…… dived and surfaced …bathed till the body exhausted entirely…not feeling to come out from the red water ….as a gargantuan frog holding the bank he suspended…
“Oh! Shiva...” a call.
Lifted his head on the water surface and saw Hanuman swimming towards him.
“Why don’t you suggest me a good place..:”
“Place?”
“Place ... to get a good girl… my dear you brought a golden girl as a wife..”
Shiva engrossed in smiles.
“Is she a trained one or have you to put the yoke on neck and train...”
“Not trained and will not be trained...”
“That means did not know any work and you’ll not teach her. That’s it” asked wondering.
Shiva nodded his head.
“The work of fields ok... Making the food or at least didn’t she know amassing the dung?”
Shiva looked at Hanuman with derision...
“My dear fool, if she bends her body for dung she bends her neck for the field work too..”
“I am not a fool. You are a fool! You say she didn’t know the work.. And you are not to train her…to feed her keeping at home are you a rich god? ♥ (Kubera?) My god! Don’t want a girl from your side and not your adventure too” he ascended the bank.
With a laugh Shiva too climbed the bank, with wet clothes went to his field under the stream.
He walked about the creek. Over grown Weeds and bushes encroached the uncultivated land.
With the boundaries as borders, Square shaped trenches filled with water, reflecting the sunlight seemed as glass pieces.
The mother earth’s enjoyment of the previous night’s union with the rain God, in the form of tremors is visible as limitless beauty everywhere.
On the stagnant red water in the fields, white floating wings of the ants…………
Over flowing water snuggling the edges of land...
From the cut edges still sinuous streamlets as slim lines…………
The shades of ghostly signs of night’s squall still moving in the total environment, according it a veiled experience……..
On the way, in stagnated water in shallows, wetting his feet as he went in to the village, people gathered around him…details of marriage, sweet teasing, passing them…… by the time he reached home, she might have washed her hair, Gowri was drying it. She