That evening, as Arjun helped his father push a young rice seedling into the muddy water, he whispered the lesson to himself. "Kharif crops are sown in the rain." It wasn't just a fact. It was the ancient, perfect rhythm of the earth.
Arjun watched as his father and the other villagers emerged, not with heavy coats and boots, but with simple dhotis hitched up and wide-brimmed bamboo hats. The air smelled of wet clay and hope. They didn't wait for the soil to be bone-dry; they welcomed the water. kharif crops are sown in
"Why can't we sow wheat now, Grandpa?" Arjun asked one drizzly afternoon. That evening, as Arjun helped his father push