That Rainy Day (Revised)

They prayed in unison for the eluding rain. Long waited in despair at the horizon staring. Months passed without a sign testing their patience. Hot Sun heckled with a sneer. Night sky speckled with moon and stars leered in ridicule. An old farmer averred “We’re all cursed by the Goddess to whom we shunned oblations” Asserted one literate peasant “It’s all green house effect.” Soon cried an yeoman in glee “There in the skies! See! ” Spotting a black nimbus hovering over Northern expanse. When came a squall of promise followed by what they missed long; drop by drop; as a tickle of optimism. First just as a drizzle then grew into a blissful deluge. The tillers found no bounds to their glee. They laughed, screamed and danced. Their mirth and play went astray till they heard the direful horns blare of cars and jeeps that arrived! Got down many men looking stately of unmistakable power and sway of high echelons of bureaucracy. Declared one well-determined “We came here to take your land to make a project grand. We give jobs to you all and recompense any (?) loss in kind or in pay cash as you intend.” In dismay the rain paused. With disgust the greens faded. One farmer with strength gained in jarred tone pleaded: “Sirs, we live by plough. Know not the jobs you give. We know your sweet love. Only a clever maneuver to root us out from this farm field.” Then came the stunning command “You give land in volition or else we take it by compulsion.” With a thunder, resumed the rain. With rain, their eyes showered all along. All of a sudden descended over them a threatening shade of gloom erasing their volatile dream The spluttering rain abashed under the ominous calm of the impending doom. Slumped the dejected tillers on their own adored soil sobbing violently with fear. Their tears wetting their Earth dear, their trembling hands pressing the clods and their nails scrapping the dirt as if ploughing for the last time. But of course this time no grain or gain for them, to collect.