A young boy of twelve years sat under a tree, the branches and leaves of the mature tree protected him from the ray of the sun and the heat of the afternoon. The boy's eyes were closed peacefully and one would even think that he was dead with the serenity that clouded his young face. He was dressed in ordinary-looking clothes but the style exposed its glamor. No boy of his age in the village would wear such ordinary-looking exquisite clothes. He was probably not from the village.
The lashes of the boy suddenly twitched and they trembled. Tears ran down his cheeks from the corners of his closed eyes. His lips opened slightly and he muttered incoherent words. All that could be noticed from the movement of his lips was,
"...mother" he became quiet and said nothing more. A cooling breeze swept past the forest, the flowers danced, the birds sang and the waters rushed. But, his heart knew no peace.
