A Nation’s Birth in Hushed Tones

He looked at his shop, engulfed completely in a quilt of darkness, except for that momentary tingling of the sepia light bulb, which seemed to have gulped a bottle of country liquor. Walking slowly, each of his steps made sure to make the least possible noise, but for the truant dried leaves, still crunching under his white chappals. He stopped momentarily, listening to the uncanny silence being punctuated by the sudden rumbling noise of a distant cloud, and a few leaves rustling with the whistling winds caressing them. But no other sound, of boots marching, or a sign of any military movement, He entered the shop through a back door and closed it, then and there. Patterned knocks, faint, but just enough for his old ears to comprehend, One by one, his grocery shop filled up with people, of various ages, but what astounded him, like every other day, was how quiet they stayed. A low murmur that may well be mistaken for the brain playing tricks, A few candles were lit, and they smiled at each other, hopes twinkled in their eyes like every other day, He knew some of them, who walked mile after mile, just to hear that news. <a href="https://medium.com/soul-bay/a-nations-birth-in-hushed-tones-22bf6d0e5b9a">Learn More</a>