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My Village

By | Feb. 2011
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My Village

It was my first visit to a village that is not far away from Delhi. Only one bus goes there in the morning and returns in the evening. The passengers had not only put milk-drums in the bus, but also they had carried huge bags. Some of them were sitting on the roof. As we passed through the link roads, there were green fields all around. The farmers had sown the winter crop and were watering the plants carefully. I had never come across so much of green space anywhere in the city. The bus stopped near a pond that was giving out a stinking smell. I covered my nose with handkerchief. We were supposed to reach the school. The lane was covered with mud. As we started, some cows and buffaloes came from behind. They ran into one another and could have trampled me but I was saved due to my alertness. An old man was sitting on a cot, smoking hookah. Some children were playing around him. It looked as if life had lime to a standstill. When I requested a villager to guide me to the school, he asked a small boy to take me there. There was a small building with only two rooms. The students were sitting on coir mats. They were writing on the wooden plates called takhties. There was dullness all round. I could not hear noise of any kind except that of barking of a few dogs. little village people

There were a few well-dressed young men who told me that they were employed in the city. They had come there to visit their relatives. I was told that there were no shops or medical facilities in the village. I have decided that I shall work for the improvment of ese villages when I grow up.
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