They were unloading the truck. Big muddy wheels had already compressed many of the tulips and the bricks falling heavily on them were crushing the rest. For the chrysanthemums another truck was on the way.

It was a beautiful place just in front of my house, full of trees and lush green grass floating on the ground, with tulips dancing in the cool breeze. But today a big ugly machine crushed them under its black feet. They were going to build a house. A big, new house with high walls standing at the place where tall trees were standing now.

She stopped for a few moments beside one of the eucalyptus trees, watching the tulips lying dead in the condensed grass and a huge monster standing tall on them with an ominous pride. They stopped for a while, looked at her and then carried on the botanic destruction. A huge pile of bricks had gathered and no tulips no grass was there to be seen.

She stood there for a while, emotionless, but with strange questions in her eyes. The nature seemed to have stood there beside her, watching all that. Then she proceeded forward and so did the nature, slowly, silently. I was afraid that I wouldn't be seeing her again as tomorrow she might change the transit. She had been making her way through this part of the town so many times now that she had become a part of it. I could never imagine this place without her.

It was more than a year ago when I first saw her, appearing from the woods, getting back from the college. It had rained an hour ago and everything was fresh. Eucalyptus and acacia trees were breathing in fresh air and the tulips playing with raindrops clustered on their faces.

On the white dusty road zig zagging through the woods, she appeared like a fairy dressed up in white. She was about middle height, with long black silky hair hanging down lose. Her face was like a sunrise and her extremely beautiful eyes with a faint shine that appeared merrily whenever she smiled. And her smile showed her plane white teeth that reflected the spring sunlight like a block of ice. The wind, blowing through the acacia trees, wavered her clothes and she, holding books in one hand and setting her dress with the other, her crystal clear neck bent and eyelashes half stretched over her eyes, dispersing her fragrance in the air, walked on tearing through the wind.

She went on and disappeared. I, sitting in my room beside the window, watched her vanishing. She was there no more but my nostrils still could smell her fragrance in the cool air and my eyes still watching her somatic figure walking in the wind. I started waiting and wondering whether she'll come tomorrow.

The next day I had been waiting for her, looking out through the window. I had fears that she'll never come again. But she did. She appeared almost at the same time, with same grace and same urgency of reaching home. She appeared and disappeared like a rainbow and I had started waiting for the next day.

It was a routine now. Every day she came more or less at the same time and I just watched her coming and going.

The season started changing, there came the summer. Doves not cooing that often, partridges and quails hiding in the shrubs and a bunch of hens and their chicks shouting, flapping their wings, running here and there trying to avoid themselves from getting under her feet as she proceeded quickly, disturbed by the heat. Wiping perspiration from her forehead with a handkerchief and then shading with her left hand over her eyes, trying to save them from the sunlight sneaking through the tall eucalyptus trees she went on.

When she had left, the hen families started gathering again; still protesting at the disturbance they had to suffer. But before they could settle down I closed the window, moved the curtain on and went to bed for a nap.

Summer Vacations. Unlike any other boy I really wished if they hadn't come, but they were there with all the boredom and nuisance in the air as she was not there. It seemed as she took away everything with her, dewdrops, cool breeze, dark shades of the trees, pleasant sunshine, everything. The birds seemed to have forgotten their chirping, flowers their dances, the wind lost its coolness and the trees their whir. The clouds never came back and never did the rainbow. She took all the colors with her, leaving the place somber and gloomy.

Every day seemed a year because she wasn't there. Where was she; in her home, enjoying the summer vacations. I could hardly sleep at nights, watching the moon peeping through the window, imagining her lying on her bed in her room. A moderate breeze blowing across through the window, touching her cheek and unsettling her hair.

"She too might be looking at the moon", I thought. Her eyes on the moon and I looking at her face, into her eyes. How? I didn't know but I was sure of that. I could see her - her face reflected in the moon.

The days made their way slowly and silently. The wind kept on whispering with the tall eucalyptus trees and quails crying and sighing in the hedges. Then one day there came heavy dark clouds, floating in the air, fighting and mingling with one another. "What have you come for? She hasn't come back yet." I told them. A big roar and a thunderbolt, they answered with. "The rainy season is going to start," said one of the passersby to another. "Rainy season! With out her! No, it can't be." I shouted in my heart. "Go away you black monsters and come back when she comes." But my words vanished in the loud rumble and it started raining.

I jumped out of the window and into the trees, into the rain. "Where is she?" the whole place asked. I had no answer. I came back.

"All right, I am going to have a word with her", I decided. "I am going to tell her that the trees are sad, the ramps feel alone, the wind is silent and the curly muddy path lies dead until she comes back." But I couldn't, I couldn't tell her that.

Then one particular day I found the trees making a flutter and the pleasant wind swinging everything around, the reason. I couldn't know until she appeared from the ramp, walking in the woods. She had come back; the sad and sinful days were over. Every thing started all over again and then the winter came.

She started getting packed into coat and sweater, socks, white joggers and a big white shawl. She had style in the simplest way, or to be more correct, she was simple in a very stylish manner. As the winter had come, the flowers started vanishing, the grass changing its color and leaves jumping down the trees. They had long been up there, stuck in the branches. Now it was there turn to wander on the ground.

Every day she appeared and her arms embraced with each other, her shoulders shrugged and book bag hanging on her shoulder. Her cheeks blossoming like a cherry and steam gushing out of her mouth every breath she breathed.

"If winter comes, can spring be far behind." A year was complete from spring to spring. Lady of the night had taken rebirth (and was still awake in the noon) to take a glimpse of the lady of the day. The trees all dressed up in green and the flowers bathed in dewdrops were glorifying the whole scene. There was nothing gloomy anywhere any more. Nature was shining and smiling in the hearts of every living being.

Then one day a big frightful truck cruised in. It had nothing to do there but it came, crushing the flowers under its feet. It was packed with bricks. The masons unlocked the barrier and a pile of bricks roared down the ground making a loud rumble, killing the rest of the flowers, which survived the black tires.

In the next two days there were many piles of bricks, sand and steel. Nature was buried under these materials.

She never came back. She changed her way, the way that was full of iron and stones now. They took her away from me. She was apart from me. Although she had never been a part of me but she was a part of all this routine and they took her away.

Many a months have passed without her. Now there are just a few lucky trees but no more grass no more flowers. Instead there stand huge rocky walls full of bricks and cement. The wind hits the walls and then not coming to my window, changes its way. The quails and partridges since long gone. Where? I'll never know.

Today the clouds approach. But the rainy season isn't supposed to start yet, why have they come so soon? It seems as if the wind has brought them here to show them what disaster has taken place. They are surprised to see the change. They roar and roar with anger as if they are asking me, "Where are the trees, the flowers, the grass and where is the long dirty road, the quails, the doves where have they gone to? " I am uncertain of the answers so I remain silent and just glare at the rocky structure.

It started raining. The raindrops try to hit the soft soil, to feel the gentle touch of the grass, but instead fall on the concrete roof of the building. They hit the hard surface and jump up as if they don't like it and are trying to go back into the clouds again but then helplessly fall down again, screaming, "What is this? "

"The House!" I finally answer.

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