Growing vegetables was a passion with Shankar. His village Tihidi was well known for its quality agricultural products. He had inherited one acre of fertile land and the expertise of cultivation from his father.He grew almost all types of vegetables. People around the village loved his yield as they were grown without any fertiliser and chemicals and he was very famous for his yellow pumpkins for their sweetness.
The green grocer’s earning was reasonably enough to maintain his family of five. He had made a pucca house, out of the thatched one of his late father. His three children attended the village school and on their spare time, along with their mother, they helped the father in farming.
But the uncertain monsoon last year troubled him a lot. He knew, his business would definitely dwindle. His wife Malati always said, “have faith in the Almighty. Everything would be good.”
The downpour on September disheartened him. The village, the fields were submerged. The plants were ladden with fruits, “oh God, the plants, all will be spoiled .Bad luck.”
The rain continued unabated throughout.
“when will it end? ”
Fortunately, on the third day, the rain slackened off. By evening, the sky became clear of clouds.
Shankar wore the rain coat and with a spade on hand he went to his field, half a kilometer away. He must cut the ridges to let out the water. Night came discennding. Darkness had fallen, but ignoring it he went on his work. After some time he heard a sound. “wuh-thhh”,Somebody is throwing wet mud with shovel. He looked at that direction. “Thank you Bhai. You are clearning the water from my field. So nice of you. Wait, I am coming. ”
He reached the place. And what he saw????????
Two healthy hands with golden rings on fingers, were on the job with a spade. Only two hands,there was no trunk of a body!!!!!
A chill ran down his spine. Throwing the spade there he ran for his life towards his house. He fell unconscious at his door. The wife in panique started crying loudly. Neigbhours started gathering.Sankar’s children stood frozen. The oldest man of the village tried to wake him up. “Sankar,don’t worry my child. What happened. Tell me everything. ”
Sankar mumbled, “two hands only. Gold rings, spade, mud, shovel.”
By that time, the doctor of the village had arrived. He checked him properly. “Nothing to worry. He is only frightened. Where had he been in the darkness. Give him hot milk with lot of sugar. ”
After the doctor went away, Sankar seemed a little bit stable. He narrated everything that had happened in the field.
The oldest man started speaking. “Sankar, the hands you saw, were the hands of a benevolent zamindar who ruled here almost hundred yeas ago.His name was Jayiguru Chhotrai. I have heard many incidents where he had helped people in distress.
