For months they had toiled under the Sun. In the huddle, they never knew where they would be found in the next moment and with whom. Sometimes they moved in waves and sometimes hanging on to the strained bond they had developed with others in the process of migration. They were never allowed to be in the same place and were not even once told what they were to do. All they knew was they were on a constant move since the fateful day when they were taken away from their loved ones. Not even a one of them was able to forget it. Some of them were lucky enough to save themselves, but most of them were dragged one after another into the stream of their people and of other tribes. Unlike now, in the initial days they were not allowed to stop. The consistency was painful. Their complaints were unheard. If noticed to be grumbling and rebelling, they were thrown out of the tracks they were following and left out in unknown land at the mercy of strange tribes who seldom welcomed the outcasts. For days they moved constantly until they reached a place vast enough to hold multiples of their huddles. With no shelter above their head, they lulled in whatever state they were under the sky. They were there now, just like they had been there for months. But, each of them knew what was going to happen next. They had heard from those who were there before, those who were not seen again next day. They knew it was time when they will be picked up one by one, bonds broken and thrown into carts that would silently move away as anguish on both sides prepares to forge new bonds.
The carts moved whither its occupants knew not. With no immediate purpose, they held on to whatever they could. Carts moved slowly compared to their sudden initial relocation. They didn’t know whether they were going back the same way or making new paths. Whenever the carts stopped, from the openings they tried to see if there was anybody they know in the nearby carts and how they were doing. Because they were able to see the surroundings as they passed through different landscapes, they were able to be lost in their thoughts, which was a welcome bliss in that god forsaken condition. They had already lost the count of the days since they had left the huddle. Getting a hang of their own pitiful state, they sometimes smiled at themselves and hummed.
One day, one of them suddenly started screaming looking down at the Earth they were passing through. Another one who belonged to the same tribe understood what the first one was saying and joined along. It turned out that there were too many from the same tribe and they all started screaming once they understood what the other meant. By the time the traffickers realised it was the loved part of Earth of the screaming, a rebellion had begun. Finding a new purpose, the occupants of each cart pushed and pulled at the grills to help themselves go free. Lightning were fired and their thundering were heard for miles. That Earth couldn’t understand what was happening. No amount of lightning could stop even a single drop of rain that had found a new lease of life and all the traffickers floated away along with their broken artillery and carts. The Earth looked up to find a stampede and chaos up in the sky. Each drop scattered in the possible directions of its Earth and hurried. The rush downwards was unanticipated, but the Earth spread their arms wide open as soon as they understood what was happening. The union changed the colour the Earth to lush green and created a puddle everywhere. Some went home beneath the soil and others stayed up to celebrate. They knew the traffickers would come back for them sooner or later and things would repeat, but for now there was love just like there once was.