He hated the person responsible for burying him alive. Had he been given a chance, the culprit, too, would have been a part of the soil.


Call it god’s miracle or sheer luck but somehow, he survived. Occasionally drinking water from the soil and nurturing himself, he struggled hard to break the barrier and take his first free breath in weeks.


One day, his hard work proved its worth; he felt he could move his hands now. And thus, he started struggling harder than usual. With each try, his hand moved closer to his freedom. After trying for what seemed like a thousand years, he felt something like never before.


His hands were no more inside the soil, rather they were free; he could feel the fresh air kissing his fingers, and the sun, burning away his laziness.


He was happy like never before and started dancing when he heard a voice, “Look, grandpa, the seed we planted weeks ago has sprouted and the plant is growing.”


~ Viwanshu Vaibhaw | Edited by Aashna Sharma


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