On the way back I stopped to take a look at the Jamin Endathur tank, around which all life revolved.
After a long gaze, feeling sedated I began the drive back.
I was on a 20km stretch through lush green fields planted for rice or peanut. The car slowed down all by itself. For an over-crowded India that we invariably imagine, there were very few people about at 5 in the evening. Presumably angered by my car disrupting the deep silence, a pandemonium of 30 or so parrots broke out of a tree and flew overhead. I slowed down to a crawl to take in the richness.
A man sat on the green berm with an ewe and two tiny lambs. I stopped. “I have been carrying the 2 day old lambs wrapped in this towel. Wish you were going my way- I would have asked for a ride,” he said. He held the ewe on a leash as the lambs suckled. We talked on about the good rains and prospects of the standing crops. He felt we had a good year ahead.
Then it happened. The ewe had been observing us and chose its best moment to break loose. Well if little fish can, why not lambs? The man was startled and then took off after the frolicking family. And they were all gone in a trice.
I found it hard to leave the place.