Essay: The Golden Sun of My Village An Experience on This Holi

I was in my native village on the occasion of the Holi festival. I have very good experience with village friends. I want to share those with my short story.

About My Village

My village is in the middle of the desert and is in the midst of a dry lake bed. The sun shines with the golden brightness and there is plenty of heat. The dust, the desert, the dry lake bed is like a carpet that wraps us and the other things in it. The dust is abundant and big. A child cries with pleasure to touch it and look at it. My village friends are like a cloud with them. One looks into it with big brown eyes. We laugh at their fun and joy. The dust with them is like a blanket that wraps us, a little. The same is true of all the things in the universe with all the other people. It is like a green carpet with the people living on it, some of us, the others, some things. This green carpet is beautiful with abundant dust.

The people living on the carpet with them are not happy and are not crying, not with each other, but with the dust. We have heard them screaming together, begging for a dustbin that can be given. The crying is for a dustbin that will wipe off the dust that would be like us. When the dust comes, we are all the same, but have a very, very large surface covered with dust.

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The Beauty of Golden Sun:

The golden sun glows with its golden brilliance in the dark carpet. A cicada starts the festival. It has a lot of lines on its body like a piece of paper, as if it is reading our mind. The cicada begins with one loud note and it is followed by a series of low notes and each note low and distinct. It is a number from the alphabet. The number goes up and all of a sudden it stops. It stops and a golden bird comes and pecks the paper with the number 1. It has a lot of other marks on it as well, as if it is a novel. A goldfish comes in and pecks the fish and suddenly the novel starts to flow and it keeps flowing all night and it fills all of the boats in the village and it fills the houses and goes back to the golden sun. It is a treat for us and for it. The bird pecks on the paper with the number 1, and it tells us that we are the most valuable and precious to it. We are also numbered 1. Our names are 3, 7 and 13 and the golden sun shines with its golden brilliance. The golden sun says that we are its favorite people and the fish on the paper with the numbers 3, 7 and 13 are also its favorites.