At the age of 16, this story got me credited with the Silver Award from The Royal Commonwealth Society, UK
It was another vacation afternoon when I was rushing through the hustling alleyways of a remote village bazaar. I could hear the resounding falsettos of numerous dedicated street vendors who were desperate on selling their last stocks of red spices, Kolkata silk saris, shawls & woollen rugs. I could distinctly sense the aroma of Vada Pav & undoubtedly got carried away by the temptation to have one along with the spicy green chutney. I immediately approached one of the hucksters to get the soft bread bun stuffed with hot potato fritter. But before I could taste the first bite I abruptly received a light touch just above my right elbow which I ignored at the first instance. But it was felt again and this time it was little bit harder and so I quickly turned around to see what was disturbing me. There was a little boy of around ten years standing quietly. I saw his skinny body & starry eyes full of earnest hope on an innocent dark face. I was standing still with wonder. But he moved on and said, “Didi, can I have one bite?” And unexpectedly he snatched the Vada Pav from my clasp & quickly started eating it. The seller was about to lash the boy with a cane stick but I didn’t permit him to do so because I had a different plan of action in my mind. We sat on a dilapidated wooden bench. I asked him with a pretended anger, “Why did you behave like this?” I was expecting an impertinent back answer or a silence of indifference but to my surprise, all that he did was cry a “sorry” with sheer naiveté. He said that he hadn’t eaten for last two nights. His father was a labourer and a sworn drunkard who was committed to rendering his hard earned money to the village’s only liquor shop. His mother could do nothing but tolerate the boozer’s exorbitant abuses and frequently lay ill with severe fever. Fortunately his sister was ‘working’. Well, “she is a bar dancer” he told. Thud! The vendor closed the iron shutter and the boy got up. He ran away & disappeared forever but left with me many thoughts to think over endlessly.
I therefore decided to bring this matter on the surface with the help of my imagination & oratory skills. I would endlessly write reality. In fact many dark, horrifying, cruel, intolerable & forgotten realities.
I want to vehemently narrate actual but unseen despairs, untouched tears, dark agonies, white cruelty, burnt lives, concealed sorrows, confined liberty & deliberate slaying of the being in human by a human being. I decided to become a social activist who will courageously write the unwritten and speak the unheard. I want to diligently serve the elder women & the little girls & boys spread over the vast expanse of the country but confined by the misery of birth & narrow – mindedness of the society.
Let the stories of beautiful girls of my country whose ugly fate has cursed them the dark nights in brothels be often written. For at least once their lifetime I think they deserve to smile & dance for themselves. I want their real tales of exploitation and despair to touch the hearts of millions of judgemental people who are deluded by false beliefs. I want the entire world to know ‘their’ biographies because ‘they’ deserve the limelight and not the red-light.
I want to truly write the purity & strength of the enduring & piteous emotions of all those ladies who were brutally coerced into the tortures of rape. I want to question to everyone who claims to be of a sound mind – is it correct to hold women responsible for being raped? They don’t get tortured or raped because they were drinking or were wearing ‘certain clothes’. Nor because they were not being careful enough while travelling alone. Women get assaulted because someone deliberately assaults them. Then why should the woman tolerate the shame & banishment? Everyone should know that what they need is sane law of justice and not the stupidity of prejudice. If only I could kiss ‘her’ wounds and wipe those sacred tears, I think I actually made the most of my life.
I will fearlessly recite the intimidating stories of all those women who have to tolerate ruthless lashes, furious beatings and barbarous scratches of their own husbands & in – laws from the age when they don’t even know what tolerance is. They are forced & rightly expected by the society to bear everything – children, responsibilities, servitude and suppression without the strength & education they were supposed to have. Some ‘fortunately’ get a chance to commit suicide but many have to survive as caged living corpses in the unseen & ignored lands ruled by indifference and cruelty. Death is far better a heaven then the deadly hell these women have to patiently suffer on earth.
I wish for all those who are veiled under the dinginess of illiteracy that they gain their rightful education. I want to write till all the women of my country are able read them. And speak till they are frenzied enough to free themselves from the unnecessary confinements their own homes & community and boldly come out to hear me.
I also want to bring into picture, the feminine life that was never allowed to live only because it was a feminine life. Let people know about the souls that could never breathe & thus forever remained unseen. Let no female foeticide be spared free. Let these hidden, encouraged accepted murders be convicted.
It is now the time that the unrest is transformed into revolution. My speeches and fables may not at times appeal to one’s reason but I am sure that they will definitely appeal to one’s feelings. They will challenge the man’s cold & unreasonable stupor with the shock of empathizing expression of sympathizing reality. That’s how a change will blast to bring about a positive & powerful effect.
Mahatma Gandhi rightly speaks, “A nation’s greatness is measured by how it treats its weakest members.” And I wish to love the weak so much until no one is deemed a weak. Hence, every child in my country will be raised in a good neighbourhood & every India’s daughter will grow up to be an educated damsel. And whenever newspapers write Delhi they write of broad – mindedness & equality.
I have to badly regret that I couldn’t do anything for ‘his’ defenceless mother, helpless sister & insatiable hunger. But what I do now is dream faithfully, write earnestly & express fearlessly so that innumerable folks like his father, his mother, his sister & most importantly ‘he’ will read them & touch the country’s future with an enlightening glory. When these children grow up they will paint a different picture; a powerful image of themselves and of the country. Soon there will emerge a radical paradigm shift; a positive transformation of perspectives towards women, a strong concern for child education & adult literacy. The desire for a collective national development will be awakened. So that when the cosmopolitans close their eyes and imagine India they see a redefined culture, educated women, liberal men, healthy children ,spiritual greenery & harmony in diversity.
I ultimately hope that one day that little boy will read and hear my genuine feelings. I think we will meet each other again to eat one more Vada Pav. I think by that time he would have become a well to do & educated gentleman. I imagine him being an enlightened citizen who will be passionate to serve the country and make its people happy. And by chance, if any day he will be reading this write – up as well, I then whole – heartedly thank him for giving me a life – changing inspiration .I want him to know that I am yearning to see him cry again. We both will loudly cry the tears of joy.
What I actually achieve by doing this? Something commonly asked for but rarely realized – satisfaction. And I want to achieve my goals and I am never going to step back. I am furious. I am inspired to become a true friend to every poor and desperate. I want to be the one that people come to when they are in need or pain. Hence, one day I will write with pride, the real tales of India; Stories which depict honesty, liberty, fraternity, prosperity, justice, tolerance, strength & selfless love.
Thus, loudly I say what Rabindranath Tagore once said,
“I slept and dreamt that life was joy. I awoke and saw that life was service.I acted and behold that service was joy”.
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