“Yes, the winds are changing,” the old man said, rubbing his callous right thumb on his left palm. Lali stood at the edge of the rock, shielding her eyes from the sun with her tiny palm. Far away, in the next town maybe, the clouds were gathering. It was going to rain! It meant a lot to her. Now, her grandmother would not have to sell the goat.
The goat had been her best friend till the date. It was dumb though. And it especially irritated her when it looked at her with its wide blank eyes, masticating the grass. But it was a comfort. At night, Lali would curl around its belly, feeling the welcoming warmth, often counting the breaths of the goat. She used to call it ‘Deju’. It meant nothing in her language, but she liked its sound.
So here was she, grinning widely, flashing a toothless grin. She had lost her incisors a week back while having a fight with a girl in the neighbourhood. Granny had told her that the teeth would never grow up unless she gave up fighting. It was not meant for girls. They needed to learn important things in life.
There was a drought the previous year. The wells were going dry, leaving the people concerned. Somehow, they had managed to survive the dry, but a draught this year meant migration. Lali could not understand why people were getting upset. Migration meant going to a new oasis, meeting new people. The people of the deserts have a big heart. Someone would have easily accommodated them. And she made fine bangles. And Deju would always provide milk.
But here were the clouds. They were heavy with the treasure they carried from the faraway seas. And they were going to fill up the wells, wash their roofs and carry the wariness away.