Sugarcane Farms

While I was visiting my grandmother’s village as a child, I overheard my grandmother talking about the sugarcane farm by the river and how beautiful it was first thing in the morning.  I was never one to wake up early.  But one of the following mornings, I woke up at 5, no alarm. I shook awake one of my cousins, and we both started walking toward the general direction of where we thought the river was located.  (We told my grandmother we were going for a walk within the village limits so she would allow us to go alone.)  

It was a cold, brisk morning.  The path ran through farms.  We could feel the dew on our feet as we walked in our flip-flops.  Finally, we spotted the river.  The sun had been up for an hour or less so the dew was still shining among the blades of grass over the entire field leading to the river bank.  The Sutlej river looked beautiful, the sunlight shining on the water making it look like a treasure chest of jewels.  We sat on the bank for a bit until we got cold.  

As we headed back to grandmother’s house, our hands and feet warmed up from the exertion.  We passed sugarcane fields, with young, fresh stalks.  We both remembered the bollywood movie sequences where the hero or heroine breaks off a fresh stalk of sugarcane and tears through the skin.  Impromptu, we decided to reenact the sequence.  As we walked up and broke two sugarcane stalks, we heard a loud voice yelling at us and we quickly scampered off.  

The rest of the way home, we bit into the soft flesh of the stolen sugarcane stalks, the juice running down our mouths, chin, clothes and hands.  By the time we arrived home, we were drenched in sticky juice, our bellies full.  [Jeet]