Published at Thursday, April 25th, 2019 - 07:19:08 AM. Farm House. By Noreen Holloway.
Time passed quickly. She purchased cloths for him so that she need not feel ashamed of his company. The women folk liked his gentle, silent ways. Who would not like a slave? Some were prepared for considering him as a prospective bridegroom even. My wife is an expert farmer, and under her direction and, with the hard work of the boy, our farm, a perfect organic farm, measuring around five acres, became the envy of the neighbours and my friends! We bought several cows, hens and ducks ( there were several ponds in our farm) and we bought a motor bike for carrying our products to the market. I did not know how to ride one, so we never had it. In the privacy of our bed room, we would discuss about him, as we did not want him to hear our conversation.
My wife had gone inside the Vadakkunnatha temple of lord Shiva in the centre of the town, originally called Thrissivaperur. The Englishmen called it Trichur, for convenience. I dont think there is a town, more lovely than my Trichur, majestically rising above the surrounding land, for miles, and Shiva overseeing the area like a sentinel. The temple with its massive walls and the spacious ground beyond, is surrounded by the ring of shops, similar to the man- made Connaught circle in New Delhi.
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