Everything has a history , do you see what I see?

I am a farmer’s son , my father’s father was a farmer , we are decades of farmers .

Do you see , every day is a day of labour , I cannot buy time , have to milk the cows , raise sheep and goats , hens and cocks , move them to cities , sell them , for a living , make money for the next harvest and animals .

Every living day is a day of labour before the sun raises , plough the land , till the land , before the monsoon arrives , plant the seeds and seedlings on the first drizzle of rain .

I care about the farm , more than me ,, me and my wife and sons too ,, life is beautiful , in the village , in the farm , when it rains , rains heavily , on the sloping tiled roof , it’s music to the ears , and when it hailstorms ,
it’s like the music of drums , melodic music to enjoy .

Can you think of it , dream of it, life is so beautiful and worth living ., it’s heaven and earth , mingled into one .

I don’t want my ashes to be spread on my farm , i want to be buried here , so i am living here , for ever .
MY LAST WISH. .
mk