Brevity, Quill


The soil is moist. The rain drenched the caked Earth. The beautiful fragrance of the soil wafts through the air. The lush green fields with a tinge of golden mustard; the village where women sew dupattas; the cattle munching on fodder; children running after each other and drinking huge glasses of lassi. My homeland is a potpourri of colors and hues. Mixed with aromatic heritage, the spicy struggles lend a richness to it. A dash of pepper and loads of generosity emboss it in everyone’s heart. My homeland is a place of comfort, a land with its own share of difficulties, the scarred past of partition an invaluable adornment. I am a Punjabi. My ancestors built their lives on this land, tilled the soil and earned their place in this world. I am a Punjabi who is loud, proud and has a heart big enough to make people happy. My language may amuse many but it is who I am. It is my expression of feelings. My love for Punjab is not limited to stereotypes, it transcends the boundaries of materialism. My mother, my home is intertwined in my essence. Jeevay Punjab!