Nisarga's Offering

As soon as Rudra woke up in the morning, he felt as though the nature of this village, far away from the city's chaos, had wrapped him in a gentle embrace. All around him were fields draped in green, the outline of blue hills in the distance, and just in front, a small river flowed gently with a soothing murmur. On the opposite bank were rows of coconut trees, and the sky looked like a vast, tranquil canvas with the sounds of birds. Rudra had come here for a few days’ vacation, to escape the busy, mechanical life of the city. The village was named Madhuban. He had visited once as a child with his parents, and though many years had passed, it seemed the village's nature had remained untouched. That same clear river, the foggy mornings, and the refreshing breeze—it all felt just like before.
He stepped out of the guesthouse and began walking along the riverbank. The path curved gently, flanked by shrubs and wildflowers, with their fragrance filling the air. He came to a stop at one point, and there was an elderly man fishing with a bamboo rod on a large rock near the river. Rudra walked up to him and asked politely,
“How’s it going, uncle?”
The old man smiled and replied, “Not bad at all. Watching nature is more peaceful than catching fish.”
Rudra fell silent for a moment. In fact, he couldn't buy the peace he found here with money from the city. He eventually sat down and submerged his feet in the water. The cool water touched his skin, washing away the fatigue of his life. From across the river, a group of ducks floated toward him, followed by a little boy swimming joyfully behind them, calling out, “Come on, Ramdhanu, come!”—Rudra realized that one of the ducks was named Ramdhanu.
These scenes filled Rudra's heart. He seemed to be given new life by the landscape, the simplicity, and the unspoiled lifestyle. In the afternoon, he went toward the base of the hills. There was a small waterfall there. The tiny drops of water dancing in the breeze made the sound of falling water fill the air. Rudra stood there silently for a while, feeling as if the sounds around him were a sacred song sung by nature itself—a melody of peace. Occasionally, deer appeared from the forest. That day, Rudra was fortunate because a young deer briefly halted in front of him before reentering the forest. Nature was offering him one wonder after another.
At night, the moon had risen. Rudra sat in the guesthouse courtyard, gazing at the sky. So many stars—something he could never see in the city. He was passed by a firefly. In awe, he watched. It felt as though nature whispered, “Look, I’ve always been here. You just never saw me.”
Rudra realized that this deep connection with nature was true peace. No matter what the man-made world had to offer, life without nature’s touch was incomplete.
The next morning, he would return to the city. But he was aware that he was carrying these sights, sounds, and emotions with him, like a sliver of tranquility hidden deep within his hectic life.

The next morning was cloudy. The sun was nowhere to be seen in the sky, but there was a strange calmness in the air. Rudra made one last trip to the riverbank. As he ran his hand over the stone, he thought back to Ramdhanu, the old man, and the ducks. He knew he would never forget what Madhuban had given him in these few days. He promised himself that he would no longer live in the city like a machine before he left. Whenever possible, he would return to nature, to Madhuban. Because nature is more than just a view; it is also a silent instructor of life