The brief was to hold an action — sowing seed, rain falling — inside a calm fourfold diagram rather than a busy genre scene. Each corner repeats the same Harela vignette by rotation: a banded basket of fine sprouts, a hand reaching in to scatter seed drawn as a fan of dots, a scalloped rain-cloud above shedding short dot-streaks. Rotated around a central lotus square, the labour becomes ritual rhythm — the same gesture in every quarter, the way a household sows basket after basket ten days before the monsoon. The seed and the rain share one vocabulary, scattered dots, because in Harela the two are the same prayer. Medium-light fill lets the geru breathe between corners. White biswar on geru, nothing else.