Ploughed

” and another one leaves the table…..” tea-stall political pundits, in my colony, remarked on the recent farmer suicides.

They read the news;had their cup of tea;folded the newspaper;and went their way.Their condolences was paid.

I don’t blame them. They have a family to feed.But, so did ‘He’. I couldn’t blame ‘Him’,either.And blaming the ‘System’…ooh please…I won’t risk that. It would hardly serve the purpose. But rising above the ‘blaming game'(not my cup of tea…unless i start wearing those ‘khadi’ stuff), I still laugh at the irony of life- You are worried whether your son had two spoons of bournvita today and not far from your home, a child, before sleeping, drinks enough water to keep hunger at bay till morning.

God has played his dice……even he is not a socialist.

Perhaps, you live the desired ‘Big Indian Dream’….a job on the 15th floor, a duplex flat, wife and children to hug you back when you return from office. But, do take time to have a glimpse of ‘Small Indian Reality’ where the bread-earner returns, empty handed, once again. ‘His’ wife lowers her head in shame. ‘His’ children raise their eyes as if to ask whether the chimney will lit up today??? But ‘He’ can’t see them clearly….hazy vision…probably because of the tears…’He’ needs to wipe them off. Every day, he has to come up with a new fictional story to tell ‘His’ children as to why they cannot have food tonight- ‘The devil from the underground mixing poison in the food’ and ‘God wants food in return of candies’ stories are already over.

‘His’ hand goes down to the plate but does not come up to feed the mouth. ‘He’ rubs it…scratching the soap around the corner trying to remember the last time it was washed. Last time, when it had something to eat in it.

The look in ‘His’ children’s face makes ‘Him’ feel guilty….’his’ conscience loath ‘Him’ and after a long day of having plateful of curses and bitterness, when ‘he’ doesn’t find a shoulder to cry…He breaks down.

One can even argue, whose ‘cracks’ are deeper.

                                              “The one on the ‘heels’ or the one in the field.”

Dejected and frustrated by the atrocities, ‘He’ even tries to come out of this bog. But alas, Society is a wicked devil.

Yes, I am talking about ‘Him’. The one whom you see in election campaign videos or some screen-shots being posted in ‘Rising India’ ads–happily harvesting the crop. It’s a myth,gentlemen. ‘He’ is the one who grows the ‘onion’ toppings of your pizza. ‘He’ is the one who commits suicide. It was ‘His’ son on the railway platform, yesterday, whom your spouse shooed away comfortably.

‘He’ did not had dinner yesterday. You did. What did you have??? Half a plate of Spaghetti….the other half of which is still in the basin, to be flushed away…

Can he afford the price of a shibboleths

 

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