Sweet o stranger

Far far away from the tireless city lights, across the rail tracks was a dreary little village. One can imagine a bleak and obscure picture of the area. Sharan, a local farmer, works around the meadows alone at this time of the season. 

Sharan started his day surveilling the fields, followed by a thorough process of irrigation. Today's weather was as good as Sharan's fieldwork. Breeze pinching softly, the naughty grasslands dancing on its rhythm.

Unexpectedly, the sky turned shady and it rained. Sharan chuckled now that he didn't have to water the fields, he quickly ran towards the sheds. He cleaned his dirty hands with the towel he had all this time around his neck. Shortly after, he pulled out his smoke and gazed upon the gallery of tracks, as trains fainting into the hazy unknown. 

An adorable song knocked from nowhere-

"Sweet o stranger, have you seen the little lady, o outsider, nobody knows where she disappeared since the last midwinter"

A distant melody in a sluggish childlike tone gently stroked Sharan's ears. His eyes rushed alarmingly, just as quickly he saw two kids playing outside the warehouses. He smiled again, put out his cigarette and wiped the mist around him. It showered for a few more hours, while Sharan had his whole interest watching those kids play and descant an absurd song.

The sky cleared for a shiny twilight, the farmer set himself to the fields one more time.

The next day was a hectic one for Sharan. You could smell the scent of thick sweat dripping down his shoulders. The scorching heat left a serene glare into the machinery. Not a single haze in the sky. Sharan once again spotted the children at a distance. The boy trying to climb up a guava tree, the other was a little girl sitting under that very same tree, carving a small house with sticks into the sand. He noticed the girl wearing a woollen scarf, big enough to wrap her whole body at once. It was sceptical though, "who wears a scarf on a hot summer day?", he thought to himself. But then he recollected himself to the pending work he had and left the kids to their own business. 

Some more days went by, and he saw the kids around every time at this hour. Occasionally they would bring water for the cattle. Their activity lightens Sharan's mood. Although he never approaches the younglings.

She always sings, the little one, but the boy was tight-lipped. Quiet and mature, a lad as calm as the sea. 

Sharan went home early today, it was his wife's birthday.

The very next day he brought his wife. "You would love to see those young darlings, I swear," he told her. Daylight gradually diminished and the sun ritually dragged itself to the horizon. It was too late now, but the kids didn't show up. Sharan was curious. But at least his wife helped him today, and abruptly she came to found a red woollen scarf under a bush. It was when she was plucking the weeds out. She thought sharan had put it there. And on that scarf was knitted on bold black "AMINA". She gave no mind to it.

They stayed a little more, sat under the shed and gazed up at the starry night sky. 

A hymn diverted Sharan notice. Was it the sound of a frigid train hustling to pass by the farms? No, It was the same song, the girl must be near somewhere. He looked around. Nothing but an inaudible, foggy sight followed. "Did you hear it too?" he asked her, "what? The crickets" she leaned to confirm. "No dumbo, the song, can u hear it, how could you have not heard that, it was very distinctive" he exclaimed. 

They went home after a short while, and Sharan still argued over the voice he heard. "Must be in your head, love" her wife emphasised. 

Sharan made his mind clear that he would go address those kids tomorrow, he has to, after what had happened the other night. He somehow managed his patience.

The next morning, he came early, finished all his errands. Evening struck already. He washed his hands near the warehouse. He held a lantern in his left and scratches his hand with the other. As he slowly walked towards the trails, the night sky cleared its rusty clouds for the blue sacred moon.

Then he approached the boy straddling near the rail tracks. He was knitting something, it was blurry to his vision, even under a full moon sky. "Hey, buddy- alone today? Where's ya sister" he attempted to fake a manly voice. The boy seemed to avoid the man. Sharan startled by his response. He sat beside the boy and took a small glimpse at him. The stretched out strands of wind squashed the thin atmosphere. 

Somewhere in that hugely, unstated space, between them lied a spooky presence. He could sense it. The boy stopped knitting. He looked up to Sharan with his golden dewy eyes. "It's nice, what are you weaving son?" He tried so hard to initiate a conversation. The boy smirked and ignored him again. "Never you mind, sharan," he thought to himself, "he's just a kid".

A train rushed and shut down the emptiness, which strained the awkward existence between them. They both waved at the passenger's abode. Sharan stood up and said, "well, I must depart now, my lovely wife is waiting for me, I'll bring candies for you tomorrow, fetch your sister with ya, lad"

As he walked past the fields away and away, further into the distant mist, the small boy stared at the dusky moon and uttered silently, "I know you're still here Amina, come back to me, if that guy saw your soul, you sure must be around?". And his eyes filled with sheer fluids of grief.

Another train passed through the farms, and one could see, on the outside of the compartments, written on a bold black banner-

"Sweet o stranger, have you seen the little lady, o outsider, nobody knows where she disappeared since the last midwinter"