Garvel

GARVEL, A TYPE OF VEIL WHICH KEEPS THE SURROUNDINGS COOL WAS THERE SINCE SHIVA’S CHILDHOOD. NOW IT HAD REACHED THE HUGE TAMARIND TREE AND HAD ACTUALLY HALFCOVERED IT. IT HAD CLEVERLY AND ARTISTICALLY WOVEN ITSELF THROUGH THE DENSE BRANCHING OF THE TAMARIND, OCCUPYING EVERY INCH OF ITS BLOSSOM. SO MANY YEARS HAVE PASSED. IT WAS STILL STANDING ERECT, FACING THE STORMS, READING BETWEEN THE RAINS. IT WAS MANY TIMES TORN APART FROM THE STORMY WINDS AND THE TORRENTIAL RAINS. YET, IT WAS THERE, FACING EVERYTHING BRAVELY. NEITHER THE WINDS NOR THE RAINS HAVE BEEN ABLE TO ROOT IT OUT OF ITS BIRTHPLACE. BUT NOW THE STORY HAD TAKEN ANOTHER ROUTE, COMPLETELY. THE FAMINE SINCE THE LAST THREE YEARS WAS STARTING TO SHOW ITS EFFECT DESTRUCTING THE GARVEL. THERE WAS HARDLY ANY TINGE OF GREEN LEFT, FORGET THE FLOWERS. THE BRANCHES WERE AS GOOD AS THE DRIED STICKS. IT WAS SOMEHOW SURVIVING, LOOKING FORWARD TO THE DRY SUMMER PASS AWAY. IT WAS SURE OF FLOURISHING THROUGHOUT THE MONSOON, IF IT COULD ENDURE THROUGH THE SCORCHING SUMMER. BUT THIS WAS NOT TO HAPPEN. THE FAMINE CONTINUED THROUGHOUT. THE SUN BAKED EVERYTHING. IT MADE THE GARVEL LIMP AND GO LAME, IT LOST ITS LAST STRUGGLE AND SLID DOWN FROM THE AGEOLD TAMARIND TREE GIVING AWAY ITS VERY LIVING. IT WAS SO SUDDEN; THE OLD TAMARIND LAY FLABBERGASTED OVER THIS LOSS.