A village of fifty families. A village more of nature’s than man-made. An assemblage of peace-loving people. Encircle by moors and dominated by trees. No scorching heat and no shivering cold. Neither noise nor chaos and that’s the choice. Simple life with no serious strife. It’s my village.

A world with so much hues and cries seems implausible when it comes to my village. God has showered an avenue of perennial joy and peace enough to live a life. People have more reasons and times to work for each other.

Even being at the jaws of death, no one feels secluded or isolated. Although, no one owns a house or a building, everyone has a home, a space for his own. ‘Air-conditioning’ might be a strange phrase but our thatched house is enough to cool and defend us from heat. Who says about water shortage? We get water all across seasons, years, even ages.

We have a big pond shrouded by water hyacinths to cleanse and shield its water from contamination. We drink the sterile waters of our ponds and not bottle water. Trees and plants abound in our surroundings. It’s a setting at the backdrop of nature. We practice ethnobotany. Medicinal plants encircling our huts first-aid us. Nature showers its bounties through frequent rains and greeneries wash away their dusts and this gives us a green enthusiasm.

Our paddy field turns its hues and colors in tandem with the changing order of seasons. Its leaves sway in flying colors generating breeze for us. Rice grains awaits peasants’ ‘ode to harvest.’ Birds chirp to please and soothe tiring workers. Helping hands keep vigil at the doorstep of the needy. People enjoy laugh and laughed at biding their time. Sweating workers make laugh each other and get laughed. They are yet to learn earning and replicating paper-made rupees.

This is how they live life and script their destiny.