My name is Kumar and I am a farmer. I have been a farmer since I can remember. My father is a farmer. His father was a farmer. His father's father was a farmer. We have been farming in the Andy Anand Farm for many generations and for many more generations to come.
Every morning I would wake up to the peaceful sound of birds singing outside my window and to the contented mooing of cows and carabaos in the field; signaling the start of the day. I would keep my eyes closed for a few more seconds, relishing the familiar sounds and waiting for my next sense to kick in. Then the smells come next. The scent of paratha and turmeric tea waft in the air; making me excited to get out of bed and race to the kitchen.
I'm always the first in the kitchen, my two younger siblings smaller and slower than me. We have to wait for them before we could eat, though. It's a family rule; we eat together or we don't eat at all. Pa sits on the head of the table with Ma on her right. I sit across from Ma, everyday amazed at how they look at each other; like she was the most beautiful woman in the world and like he was the strongest man in the world.
My siblings settled in their seats; Maja beside me and Amit across from her. Our grandfather sat on the opposite end of the table. I looked at the faces of my family one by one, all of them smiling, all of them contented at the humble fare on the table. I looked out the window, the whites of the clouds and the greens of the field sparkling in the rising sun. It was just like any other day in the farm. Life in the Andy Anand Farm is good and dependable. Everything was clear. Everything was ordinary. Everything was simple. Everything was familiar.
Everything was perfect.