The pungent smell of mud in the air woke him up..... the old peasant...was dreaming of rain... and of golden corns.....how he nurtured.... He woke up from his slumber....It was no dream.... the rain outside was reality.... He took his son to the Piece of land...he owned.... He ploughed all across...till dawn... His fragile hands almost gave up...but the old farmer knew the values... He watched his fertile...harrowed land with his sleep-laced eyes...embracing his son... An old man was lying inert on the field.....the old peasant's.... Thick blood was spilled into the mud....was he shot? The woman was silent...shell shocked..... And the son was crying.... The man,unknown in a silk suit was giving solace to her....was rhetorical... He didn't know the rustic language.... The poor old framer wakes up from his sullen dream....