Thursday, June 30, 2011

Preserving Life



     The village was the silent witness as the night welcomed the dusk with open arms. The birds chirped merrily in the azure morning sky in the appreciation of the sun that had risen in a hopeful heart. Every day marked a  new journey towards a new mission to pay the debt of humanity. Many roads and many a paths led to the darkness that symbolised the cluster of souls engulfed in despair. But eventuallythey were all the options to be chosen from and embarked upon in order to begin the quest to enlighten lives.


     Aastha opened her eyes embracing the new day and embodied the sunrise. She looked around to adjust to the unfamiliar surroundings. Her smile gave way to a frown as she reflected upon the consequences that had brought her into the tiny dilapadated shack.


    Today was the day to lend a helping hand to the opressed once again. Many such events in her life had left scars in her memory that she knew would never take her leave. But she could not deny the fact that that such encounters with  the stark reality of life had made her a better person and had brought out the courage in her that had been hidden behind her composed and fragile demeanour.


    She was a social worker who had devoted herself completely to the cause of humanity. Obstacles never used to intimidate her as she had always believed in taking the bull by its horns. The upbringing in an orphanage where she had been brought up by nuns had instilled in her the values that had compelled her to serve the distressed. She had the courage to stand up against the malpractices clutching the nation and the in the cross around her neck she felt the presence of her late parents' blessings.The news of female foeticide in a nearby village had reached her through an article that she had come across in the newspaper a month back.But in the next publication the editor in charge had profusely apologized to the Sarpanch of the village and this was followed by the reporter being sacked. Aastha tried to contact the publications but the authorities bluntly refused to cooperate inspite of many trials. Then she struggled to find out the residential address of the reporter and went in search of the reporter himself but was distressed when the realisation dawned upon her that he was missing. This raised her suspicion and she started for the village immediately taking lodging in a small guesthouse.


    She took a deep breath and set out to work. She tried to come across as a tourist and started moving around with the camera. She was startled to find that the humungous male population overshadowed the insignificant female population. She tried to get facts from the ladies but they were scared to death and therefore hesitant to share their thoughts with a stranger.She had almost lost hope when she heard sobs while walking past the local hospital.






She peeped inside through the window to witness a horrible sight. Newborn babies were being dropped into vessels of boiling hot water by burly compounders and the Sarpanch herself was supervising the brutal murders. Aastha recognised one of the compounders as the missing reporter. She was shaken by the heartwrenching crime but stopped herself to take any immediate action and restricted herself to capturing the crime scene on camera. She had a strong feeling of being followed on the way back so she rushed back to her rooom hiding the camera reel in a secure corner and replacing it in the fraction of a second.

     She was not surprised when someone started banging the door. She opened the  door gathering all her strength so as to come face to face with a few of those compounders who pushed her aside to start searching for something frantically. They found the camera and soon it was in bits. She realised that she had lost consciousness. When she came back to her senses she realised that the whole room was in shambles and blood was flowing from her head. It had dawned upon her that the survival of truth in the world of  lies is tougher than we think.

     A few days later she sneaked out agin to pry on the Sarpanch. She ended up being brutally injured but great mental strength lied beneath her composed demeanour and fragile body. She waited for a few days to recover and then left her bed with a strategy in mind. She contacted a few of her friends and requested them to help her out with the plan. Her friends visited the village and approached the arpanch as job councellors for the women. On the prospect of productive jobs that would bring income to the village, they were taken to a nearby village for a few days where councellors were appointed to counsel the traumatised and ignorant women understand the value of self reliance and self esteem. They had realised that after bearing immense pain to bring a new life into the world they cannot destroy their own flesh and blood who are the sole creators. Now they knew that we should not be afraid to open up our eyes so that we can see a better tomorrow.


     All the village women now stood up against the malpractice. the Sarpanch was afraid and tried to seek the support of the men of the village but by now they were also prepared to speak their mind. The Sarpanch was overthrown shortly and all those involved in the crime were acquitted by the court after the camera reel that had been kept safely by Aastha was presented as evidence along with the statement by the villagers.




     Aastha stood outside the hospital with open arms gazing at the sun embracing the warmth. Humanity had won as always. Faith in humanity must never be lost. In the confrontation between a stream and a rock, stream always wins through sheer persistence and not strength. Aastha's goal to liberate the oppressed was accomplished but the mission to help the world to peep inside their soul in order to discover that light lies within us and not around us, still continues. She revisited the village after a few years and a smile spread across her face as she was engulfed in the mesmerising laughter of the little girls from all around.



2 comments:

  1. What a horrible Sarpanch, supervising foeticide, compounders boiling babies! There must be a special place in your head where you cook up these delicious villains!! We can only hope you were not the photojournalist in this morbid story.

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  2. That is a lovely compliment for the imagery that I have made an attempt to craft...and yes, I was not the photojournalist. It is an inhuman world.

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