“Pinhead of Wind Farm”, she smiled as she uttered it.
It was enough a trigger to embark on backward journey in the time machine. Smoothly circling blades of the windmills from the window of the moving car led her to retrospective hues. Strands of the grey hair danced across her face. Pushing them back and still maintaining the gaze, she was transported to the sunny bright days of carefree younger years.
She was excited. Dark clouds were looming heavily on the horizon. She clapped and jumped. It was most likely to rain. She dashed towards the Chamunda Mata Mandir. It was a five minutes run from her house. Panting heavily, she entered the temple and kneeled before the goddess. Chanting some prayers, she rang the bell with all the might of her tender hands. Gliding and twirling with the gentle breeze, she returned singing a song.
The rains had eluded them for a while then. The long wait in the eyes of her father had made him fall silent more often. Silence brewed the unspoken gloom. Her father had tilled the land and sowed the best oil seeds he could buy. Another week without rains and all hopes of the green shoot would have been lost.
The gentle breeze turned into gusty blows. Her father got up at once from the charpoy. He was now pacing up and down. “Just when I think I have learned the way to live, life changes. Why now? When you are there most of the year. Let rain also show up”, he was heard muttering.
“Bapu, this gusty wind is such a respite from heat. I love playing in open when it is there for company. It makes everything feel so light”, she stated animatedly.
“Winds will take away the dark clouds with them. We will not get the rains”, he paused to answer.
“We can use the river water. Cant we?”, she darted the question.
“That is not enough. It has reduced to a mere stream. We will not get enough water to drink in few more days”, he explained to her patiently.
“We have tried cotton and pulses. This time you have oil seeds. Why do we grow such crops if they need water and we don’t have it?”, she quizzed. The question floated in the air but got no response from him.
She suddenly got an amazing idea. With glowing face, she turned to her Bapu and exclaimed, “Lets farm ‘wind’! We have it in abundance!”
He looked at her with astonishment. “Pinhead of Wind Farm. Go away. Don’t eat my head”
Since then the “Pinhead of Wind Farm” stuck to her like a chewing gum. No one called her by her original name since that day.
“Farming the wind”, however was something she grew interested in the progressing years. With determination she earned degree in Science from Oregon Institute of Technology, USA. She capped it with the masters at Stanford University specializing in ‘Renewable Energy’. She joined Siemens at Germany as the Senior Engineer -planning and development in Wind Energy division. Five years down the line, call of motherland and her dream mission saw her returning to roots. Returning back to India, she joined the government services. She opted for the ‘Department of Renewable Energy Resources’ as her career choice.
As the Chief Secretary of Department of Renewable Energy, today after about 30 odd years she was travelling back to her village. The wind farm at her village in Rajasthan was getting inaugurated at her hands…