As I ventured into the Paldi Village, hitchhiking through some random acts of kindness, I was gung ho about my first rural experience. I met a few pleasant villagers along the way. One of them happened to be a simple 12 year old Asha, who took the responsibility of showing me the fields of the village. She stealthily plucked two chillies and four beans and kept it in my bag, gesturing me to stay quiet. This reminded me of the time I and my sister had tried stuffing peanuts into our pockets from a shop, more for the thrill that fueled our innocent minds than the intention to steal.
As I moved out of the field, with my bag filled, the dark clouds had gathered. Asha asked me to hurry up so as to escape the rain. It started drizzling, and we began to jog. The bunch of kids accompanying me asked me to slow down as I might fall. The drizzle turned into a heavy downpour. I started relishing the run in the rain. I looked at Asha and could see the happy twinkle in her eyes. We ran through the mucky fields, slipping and falling. The last time I had experienced this freedom was when my terrace was huge enough for me to run and bathe in the rain. Standing with the little girl, I discovered a new beginning for myself, one in which I let go of the unnecessary burdens in my mind and rejoiced the present moment.
(Names have been changed to protect identity).