Things were not like this some thirty-forty years back. Men had time to look up at the sky, spot a hopping sparrow somewhere around, listen to the call of a cuckoo, hidden somewhere among the trees, or even stare with wonderful eyes at an old banyan tree with spiritual delight. Ripe paddy fields, flown over by some gentle breeze, could very much be a sight to bring a heartful of joy. The silent summer afternoons, with the sun shinning brightly overhead, used to unfold the mysteries of nature, in the form of grazing cows or goats, or the tall coconut and date-palm trees, swaying their leaves with the south wind, or a hen taking rest with eyes closed on some low branch of a tree, or a butterfly fluttering its wings as it keeps on hopping from one flower to another, or even the fishes, which have come up to the surface of the pond water to have a taste of the warmth of the sun rays. Some ducks may as well be spotted along the edge of the pond, possibly under the shade of a tree, cleaning their feathers with utmost care. Life used to unfold joyful mysteries at every step.
As the day proceeds the village gets covered up by the falling rays of the setting sun. Some men and women might be spotted along the village road, returning home after a busy day's work, Cows and buffaloes could be seen returning to their respective homes. Gradually darkness engulfs the village as night overtakes the day, and the village waits for yet another dawn to arrive with delight and merriment.
Those were the days when life was simple, and full of mirth and joy, glee and merriment.
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