In a small, quiet village nestled between green fields and dusty roads, there lived an old man named Babu and his young son named Beta. The sun rose slowly each morning, painting the sky in soft oranges and pinks. Birds sang gently from the mango trees, and the air carried the sweet smell of fresh earth after the night dew. Babu was known in the village as a simple, hardworking farmer. He woke early, tended his crops, and spoke little. His son, Beta, was full of energy, always running around with big ideas in his head. Life in their little mud house was peaceful. They had a small cow, a few chickens, and a garden full of vegetables. Every evening, Babu sat on the porch, sipping tea from a clay cup, watching the sunset. Beta would sit beside him, telling stories about the world beyond the village. Babu listened with a small smile, nodding slowly. They were close, like many fathers and sons, sharing meals and quiet moments.