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.