By Thriveni C. Mysore
It was a bushfire.
Having lost his crops of the year, the farmer came home in tears, crestfallen.
He saw his little girl playing with a small sand dune.
“It is the third castle of the day, papa”, she said happily!
She did not mind as to how many times she wiped and rebuilt them.
The farmer thought, same with the crops. Wish I had the same stoic stance to losses. The bushfire was not just for my field, the loss was not just for me.
Getting the clue, he wiped his tears.
Smiling hopefully, he stood up to start anew.
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