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Where the Rain Falls Kindle Edition

by Shobana Gomes  (Author)  Format: Kindle Edition

5.0 out of 5 stars    2 ratings

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Published!! Where the Rain Falls - An Epic.

And, Finally, as epic as they come...

Where the Rain Falls is PUBLISHED!!

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I hope you enjoy the story. I know I walked a thousand miles to fill the pages of an 

epic for you.

Thank you.

Does Nature Discrimate the Downtrodden?

I watch the villagers come out when the weather gets cool in the evenings, looking up with eager eyes for signs of rain, praying that their crops are safe and don’t wither under the persistent scorching sun.

Seeds dying even before they sprout are as common as the dust-filled roads that mar the paths they tread upon. Their animals, bared of flesh, are constantly in their minds. Their bony form requires nourishment and water so that they can turn the soils of the land and be a source of staples.

Can Yearning Hearts Be Pacified With A Touch of Beauty Instead?

But when has beauty been enough to feed a body and soul? Not even the constellation can dazzle so as to silence an hungered heart.

Sparse rain in areas of the poor reek of discrimination even by nature.

“The dry winds blew dust, while the unbearable heat parched our throats and body. The sweat that dripped from our bodies was as sparse as the water that we drank each time we couldn’t stand the heat.”

Another Epic Story crafted By Shobana Gomes, the author of Amazon's No.1 best-seller, under Ancient & Classical Literature, The Goddess of the Himavan.

It's tomorrow!!

"But when has beauty been enough

to feed a body and soul?

Not even the constellation can dazzle

so as to silence an hungered heart."

Where the Rain Falls, coming out tomorrow, Friday, 24/02/2023

An epic story not to be missed.

To be published on Amazon &Kobo

Don't miss this exciting new epic story - Where the Rain Falls (Date of Publication: 24/0202023)

Mama prepared some broth, and we had it

outside on the verandah.

Gary and Trevor rushed through their lunch and

got back to finish stacking again.

Mama and I didn’t look at their faces very much when

we ate together.

I still felt that tremor of fear run through my veins

whenever I thought about their disappearance this

morning. I now knew the anguish of calling and

calling on their names and not getting any answer in

return.

It was akin to my anguish of calling on the rains when

we were in dire need, and seeing our crops die or our

animals fall from lack of water.

And then the relief I felt when I saw Gary first,

then Trevor washed away that iniquity of dread.

So I wait for rainy days to fill our dread with hope

once more and let relief wash over me like falling rain.

Where the Rain Falls - Date of Publication on Amazon & Kobo - 24/02/2023

        Gary saw that I was quiet, and came to sit by my side. “Everything will be fine, Talia.

Don't worry too much when I am here for you,” he said, sensing that I was disillusioned and unhappy.

I held his hand in mine. “Where is the rain, Gary,” I asked, my voice solemn as with the whole situation we were facing. Gary seemed to know what to do and have all the answers, so I wanted to know from him where the rain was when we needed it so badly.

Gary looked at me. I knew that he was thinking of something to say. Possibly something positive so that I don’t lose hope, and keep up the spirit of fighting all our travails as and when it comes knocking at our door.

The heat made us lethargic, so we sat down on the wooden floor, legs spread out, and tried to make ourselves as comfortable as possible. 

        Gary spoke after a long time of finding the right words to say.

“The rain evades people like us who live our lives waiting for rain. I know they lie between those clouds somewhere, laughing at us and our constant prayers for its descending. Like it is some mighty God that has the right to provoke us to poverty-stricken life. The rain doesn’t care if we live or die, Talia. It doesn’t care if the animals thirst like us, or if the rivers dry up. It doesn’t care if the seeds die before they sprout, or if the grounds cry out for water, parched and cracked. It watches us and moves away because it believes that we will constantly seek it like an anointing. It plays hide and seek as we used to when children. The rain is as dishonorable as the clouds that hold them. They don’t care if the world below is wrecked in drought or burnt to a crisp. They belong to a higher world. The rain doesn’t care for you and me. The rain waters the ones most undeserving, people, who have it all. Haven’t we witnessed it throughout our lives?”

There was so much truth in what Gary said, and the bitterness in his voice was so glaring that the three of us listened, hurting for him inside, hurting for us, and hurting for our land the most.

Mama stifled a cry as his words rang true. I clung to Gary’s hands for comfort. “Yes, I can see that Gary, thank you,” I said, startled at Gary’s explanation about the rain. I felt the same way too, I told him. I hated those rain clouds with a vengeance!

A book you won't want to miss reading.

-shobana-

The Goddess of the Himavan - Free to Read on Kindle Unlimited.

https://www.amazon.com/Goddess-Himavan-Shobana-Gomes-ebook/dp/B0B1W7QP2R

The Goddess of the Himavan Kindle Edition

by Shobana Gomes (Author)  Format: Kindle Edition

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Harinder had a dream on his first night at the shack. It was a dream about a nightingale and a flautist.

The flautist on a walk in the wilderness saw a nightingale perched atop a branch. He called out to the bird, “O’ nightingale, why do you not sing tonight, the night is young, and the moon doth sprinkle upon the grounds its sacred light? The nightingale looked this way and that, and said in return, “Though the moon doth sprinkle its light upon the ground, there seem to be no streams of rhythm nor a lyrical tune that comes to mind matching the moon and its splendorous revealing. The moon beguiles me as it does you, my friend.”

The flautist thought for a while. He sat himself down under the tree and saw the moonlight fall a little on his form. The rays warmed him.

The nightingale watched him like a hawk. The flautist took out his flute, and looking up at the nightingale, he said, “I shall play a tune to match the moonshine for you. You can sing along if you want.”

The soothing sounds of the flute reached the far corners of the land. The nightingale became a shadow for it couldn’t match the melodious composition of the song on the flute, a love song that awoke the night from its slumber.

“To whom does he perform the beauteous rendition of a love song? I have never heard sounds of such flamboyance,” the nightingale questioned in its tiny heart. “For his performance is known or seen by none, but me. Does he not know that he has the flair of a songbird and the gift of a pied piper? He has woken the night from its slumber.”

When the flautist stopped, the nightingale flew down to where he sat.

“Surely a magician with a flute, are you! Your song has been heard far and wide, for all who kept the night for sleeping have now been woken to a soulful remedy. For tonight the Goddess of the Himavan has been woken from sleep, and she waits impatiently to hear you play once again. Would you come by again when the moon doth sprinkle dust on these grounds to play as you did tonight?”

The flautist smiled, knowing that he passed this way, but once, and never did he retrace his steps upon the grounds that he had walked before.

He got up, and without an answer to the nightingale, sprinkled some stardust upon the barren land, and wished upon it much life and vigor.

The Goddess of the Himavan and he had made a pact. For upon the land that he blesses, creation would multiply and thrive.

What have you done? (Where the Rain Falls)

Look out for this exciting new story on Amazon & Kobo.

     He dragged first me, threw me down on the floor, and then went for Mama. He dragged her 

by her hair to the floor, before shouting at the top of his voice, “So, here you are 

hiding now, are you? All that trouble in our place was caused because of you,” he butted me on 

the head with his gun, “and looks like Mama who talked big the other day, is as scared as a 

mouse today.” Blood oozed from my temple. 

    Mama started screaming when she saw that I was hurt.“Leave us alone, get out you vile beast.

How dare you hit my child? Get out, I say! There’s blood on her and I will get you for that.”

Mama hissed at him. “Haven’t you caused enough hurt and damage here?” Mama rambled.

I knew she was trying to take his attention away from me.

    Fed up, he turned to her with bloodshot eyes. I saw him point his gun at Mama and shoot

her in the head.  No!!! I started screaming hysterically. The man just laughed in a lewd cynical

way and all I could think at that time was how sinister he looked and sounded. He was pure evil! 

He stared hard at my face, his fury apparent in his eyes, before kicking me again

when I tried to sit up. I wanted to help Mama who was groaning in pain next to me.

    "What have you done?" I shouted at him?

    I saw that Mama was bleeding profusely. There was blood dripping onto the floor.

When I tried to get up to help her again, he kicked me hard in my gut before charging out of

the room. I shouted in pain. Blood gushed out of Mama. I screamed and screamed as never before.

    I steeled myself to get up and went into the kitchen to get a wet cloth and a bottle of spirit to

clean Mama’s wound. I wasn’t sure where the bullet hit Mama. I was too scared to look.

    I kept muttering in between tears, “Please Mama, don’t die! Please, Mama, don’t die!”

I wouldn’t know what to do if she did. Fear numbed my very bones!

    

    Nothing made sense to me, now. Not even the blood oozing from my temple. I was reeling

in shock. “Gary, Trevor, come back – they came for us,” I cried in anguish, frightened out of

my wits. Where were they?

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