The Rain of Back Soil

        Just as the soil is a flame of life, it is a sign of death as well. Black soil is like fear, even though the eyes are open, like a mysterious darkness. A huge tree visible in the light of the moon ahead and a rope tied to that tree, where swinging in the flowing winds of memories, the hanging rope was telling the story of a painful death. 

The scene of the dead body hanging on that tree in front of the eyes and the sound that gave the soul sill was awakening the fear of death in the mind. The sweat flowing like a waterfall in the rain on the mouth was giving the feeling of death by his touch.

The young man standing on that deep black soil looked at the ground. Sadanandrao, lying in a pit soaked with blood and full of sweat, gestured to the young man with his trembling hands and said,

“Shyam, you will also die……… you too.” 

Rage raging like a red fire on the face had entered in the shyams eyes. Bowing his neck left side, without blinking an eyelid, looking at Sadanand Rao alike, Shyam said,

“Your fear is very much on everyone's mind. Perhaps you will be difficult to understand, but I want to say, those who killed me have run away from the village because of your fear.” 

Hearing this, Sadanandrao started looking at Shyam with his eyes making short.

“You wanted this soil and maybe it will be your last wish which I will definitely fulfil.”

Sadanandrao's intellect was not suggesting anything, the destiny of life and whereabouts of the future was playing with his mind.

“Trust me, I think you should also experience, experience a truth.”

Sadanandrao's breathing speed was clearly visible from the movement of his body.

“The intellect is truly smarter, that is why, as soon as death is seen, he abandons first cohabitation than the soul.”

And hearing that much, at that time, on that day Sadanandrao's frightened and speechless eyes saw the rain of black soil.