Abandoned

I was engaged in talking with my friend when the taxi we travelled stopped at the traffic red signal in the streets of Kolkata. A touch on my right hand startled me and I turned to look at what that was. I saw a small, dark, shaggy dressed boy begging me to give him money. “Kuch nahin khaya madam, paise di jiye na. Bhook lag raha he madam paise di jiye” I was sympathized with him but I didn’t want to give him money and encourage him to continue with his mode of earning. He slowly drifted to the other side of the taxi and told my friend “Madam paise dijiye, kuch khaya nahi subah se, agar mujhe aap paise denge to aapki bhalayi hogi, apko acha pati milega, ache bache paida honge….” While my friend conversed with him I remembered a picture drawn by a friend of mine of a boy in shaggy clothes standing in front of a school gate, looking curiously at the students passing by. I was asked to write a story on that picture and I scribbled something onto my notepad which was something like this-


It all started with an incident that happened in a dark night at a park in a street. A lady of about 28-30 years of age walked around the park, frantically searching for drums of waste so that she could grab some waste food to feed herself. Her way of dressing and body language showed that she was mentally not alright. Many men used to come at this time to the park to drink and on that night too three men came in. They began drinking and when it was time for them to go home they saw this young lady. One man among the three came to her and said “Hey, are you looking for food? This is not the right place to look for food. Why don’t you follow me and I provide you with food?” She looked at him, smiled and nodded her head in consent. She followed him and his companions to a darker side of the park. The next thing heard was her screaming for help as the ‘helpers’ changed their color and gang raped her. No one came to help her and all she could do was bear the pain and cry. She started living her normal life in the streets. People used passed bad comments at her; some kids threw stones at her, some were afraid to even walk beside her. With the passage of time she started gaining weight along with the growth of her tummy. She was hungrier than she was and started snatching food from places. It became unbearable for her to handle the situation when her water broke and in the silence of a monsoon night she gave birth to a boy child. She had something besides breast milk to feed the baby, poison. She poured some of it into her mouth and some into her child’s mouth and breast fed him. Within half an hour she was puking. She knew that she was going to die. She held her baby tight to her weak body. It was crying out loud. Her eyes closed slowly and she passed into eternal sleep with a crying baby held onto her. The baby was still crying. It was dawn and a city corporation vehicle came to the spot where the lady was with her baby. Her lifeless body lay there still. Two men took her body in the vehicle to transfer it to a burial ground. Her baby was nowhere to be seen. He was taken away by a beggar. The child grew up and started begging too. Every day, when it was time for the nearby school to start working, he used to run over to the gate and stand there looking at the school kids pass by.

When the traffic signal turned green and the taxi started moving I was trying to think of reasons of how that boy ended up in the streets.

Mighty hand

“No, this can’t be true. What father can just let his son die for someone who hurt him a lot? ,” I thought. Such questions were signs of my faith deteriorating. I lost interest in what I was reading and as always switched into my immediate favorite time pass, day dreaming. I was in an undaunted reverie depicting a passionate river flowing through a vast area of the greenest of meadows and me wandering around in a white dress on a horse. I got down from the horse and it galloped away to unseen distance, leaving me alone in the valley. The next thing I remember myself doing was screaming out at the touch of warmth of ‘something’ that suddenly fell on my shoulders. I looked to my right and saw a man “Give me a break! There isn’t supposed to be anyone else in my quintessentially, near to perfect dream.” “What if I was young lady?” said he, with a smile. That was when I looked at his face properly and saw his face glowing like the moon in a clear night sky. He took my hand and asked me to follow him and I followed him like an obedient sheep would follow its master. “Hey that is so not me! Am I really doing this?” I thought, while I tried hard to keep pace with him. I could see that I was still at the green pasture and to my surprise he carried me in his arms when I was too feeble to walk. I never felt lighter and comforter anytime before. I wanted to sleep peacefully in his arms and accept his caress. “Hey missy, you better get up and get dressed within 10 minutes. How many times have I told you not to watch late night movies on Saturdays? Don’t you know that you have to go to church now?” My eyes opened wide with all the uncanny noise happening around me. There was no green pasture, there was no river and most importantly there was no man holding me in his hands. I was dazed but had no time to think further as I was pushed towards the bathroom to take a shower as soon as possible. It was when the cold water from the shower poured down on me that I realized it was all a dream. One thing I was sure of was that I had the most wonderful dream I had ever seen and that I felt lighter in my heart.

I took a shower to my satisfaction and dressed up in my pretty yellow churidar. As I entered the church I felt like a princess. It was so stated by my friends that I was at my best self that day. I was happy hearing that and was as proud as I could ever be, of myself. I went and sat beside my friends. I could hear someone whispering in my ears THIS IS YOUR DAY. I got up when my name was called, walked towards the microphone and once at the right place allured into the music being played and started singing ‘This is my story, this is song.’ My eyes were drenched by the time I finished singing. I looked at the audience and saw them applauding. It was as if they were faking the applause because I couldn’t possibly hear them. Somehow I found my way back to my seat and prepared myself for the message from a visiting preacher. He talked about the walk of his life with God. He narrated a series of miseries that happened in his life in spite of which he had an unwavering faith in God. When the whole session was over I went over to him, took him aside and asked him how he could bear all the pain. All he did was place his hand on my shoulders, look into my eyes and say GOD TOOK CARE OF ME WITH HIS MIGHTY HANDS AS HE PROMISED HE WOULD. When I was in bed that night I thought how unfair I had been at times questioning God for some stupid reasons, blaming him for things wrong in my life and being neutral when I read from His word. I thought of those instances in my life when I had a backward faith. The last thing I remember myself thinking before I went to sleep that day was LORD I SUBMIT MYSELF INTO YOUR MIGHTY HAND.

Outcast

Within ten minutes in the village primary school, I noticed two 'feeble beings' sitting in the darkest corner of the room holding onto each other's hands as if they were total aliens in the class and that someone would soon bring harm to them. Before I started talking the children I asked those 'feeble beings' to come up and sit among the other children  but all they did was give me a blank look. My demand made all the other children laugh. "Madam, you don't have to ask them to do that. They aren't allowed to sit with the other children. They are outcast. We had to take them as there would be a government inspection by the end of this month," the school headmaster whispered to me. I looked at him in awe. This was the same man who, a couple of minutes ago, spoke about the need and importance of  compulsory education.  I looked back at those pair again and now their heads were bowed down.
                             Meanwhile I learned that those children lived with their parents on the farther end of the village, in an old stone house remnant, away from the high caste families. They were not allowed to participate in any social activities and were not allowed to enter any social institutions. The father of the children was a daily wager outside, working hard to keep the family going. The children's physical condition showed the deprivation of nutritious food. They were draped in untidy, torn clothes too which made them look worser. On the way back from the village I saw that house in which this outcast family lived in.
                              I saw a live example of the prevailing untouchability practise in India. When I studied these kind of stories in history classes in school, I used to listen to them as if they were fairy tales. I thought  that something like that would never have happened. As I grew up I thought that due to social changes the whole system was completely erased from the society. This singular incident made me realise that despite modernisation, untouchability  still prevails in India. I read somewhere that 'education's purpose is to replace an empty mind with an open one.' but this very purpose of education failed in this context as the attitude of people did not  change even when they were educated. Asto this note I wonder whether BR.Ambedkar's dream of an India where untouchables are not a sub division of Hindus but a separate and distinct element in the national life would ever come true.

A Tearful Christmas

I was very excited about the Christmas holidays approaching that year. An invitation by my grandparents for a  special gathering of all children and grandchildren from  my mothers side was the reason. I loved to be lost in the exuberance of the time we (14 grandchildren) spent together, teasing each other, singing songs, playing games and so on. I was delighted at the thought of spending Christmas with all of my cousins. I visualized a day filled with Christmas joy, love and peace. The was elated by the thought Christmas carols,  glowing stars, colourful  decorations and a beautiful Christmas tree.
                          What I didnt know was that this so awaited Christmas celebrations would sink in tears. On the scheduled day everyone at home got up early in the morning to get ready and catch the first bus to Thiruvananthapuram. After almost half an hour into the arrangements there was a phone call. The person on the other end was my uncle conveying the sad news about the sudden demise of my grandfather. This news was both a shock  as well as a surprise and left us in a daze. It was a shock as it was sudden and unexpected and it was a surprise as it seemed like it happened as if planned.
                          Tears and silence was filled in the air when we reached my uncle's house where people were sitting in different groups or alone,  mourning grandpa's death. I wished that this undesirable thing hadn't happened. There was a family prayer in the evening in which some shared the good moments that they spent with grandpa and some about his personality and way of life. As it was every year, that year too grandpa had bought Christmas cards for each of his grandchildren.  
                           When I look back now  I feel everything happened that day as if planned. I am sure that he died in peace as his heart was filled with the happiness of seeing and spending time with all of his children and grandchildren and sharing the care, love and peace of Christmas.

My girl

                        I peeped out of the window with curiosity to see whether she is somewhere near the gate or so. The clock on the old classroom wall ticked 11 am. She was never this late. An anxiety disseminated within me which made me think that some plight befell her.
                        I remember the day I saw her for the first time; approaching the school gate with a beaming smile on her face. She had an alluring beauty made perfect not to mention her pretty long face, long thick hair, big eyes and a tall thin frame. She introduced herself as the cook of the school. I knew right from the moment I met her that she would be a close friend even though she was quite younger to me. I used to refer to her as my girl when I talked about her to others.  Days and months passed by and she revealed that she is forced to be engage in flesh trade by her own loved ones.  Her eyes burned with the desire to break free of all those bondages and fly off to be a free bird. Her eyes glistened when she talked about the man she loved and who loved her back. She told me that she would abscond with him some day leaving back all the conundrum. 
                       I woke up from my thoughts to the yelling outside the classroom.. A large group of villagers where standing in a circle under the banyan tree. They seemed to be looking down at something. My heart pounded fast. Somehow a picture of my friend lying down lifeless on the ground came to my mind. I ran to the crowd and pushed through it praying that it wouldn't be anything like I anticipated. I crossed my fingers, looked down and to my dismay saw her body lying still clothed in her favourite salwar. Her last rites were performed on the same day. I wondered whether to shed tears or to smile for what fate brought her.