The speedometer was hitting 60. Ramanand could hardly see the lush green farm lands. They were just running by, though, not as fast as his thoughts. He still remembered that day 7 years back. The day when his father had sent him to the city.....to study. Ramanand was from a typical Indian agrarian family. His father Mr. Rajakumar Shastry, had been a farmer all life long, diligently tilling and farming in his land, his four bheegas of zameen, maybe the only thing worth possessing in his house-hold, and, of course the 2 cows-Gayatri and Neelam. They were more of a family member that mere animals, and, like any good family-member, they had always supported Mr. Shastry, through the thick and thins of life, always giving the milk, never complaining, never even raising a sound.
Mr. Shastry's life had always been a life of struggle, a life of sacrifice, a life where something always had to be lost to get something. Ramanand's eyes moistened when he thought of the day, he had gone to the city. The day when his father had parted with 2 bheegas of zameen, so that he could get enough money to send his son to the city. He still remembered how his father had stifled his tears---tears at the loss of a son to the bustling city, from where he may never return and the loss of his land.... the land of his ancestors..... the land which had been handed over for generations, and had now been sold to a zamindar so that he could give it to somebody else as his daughter's dowry.
Ramanand could see big rocks with barbed wires tied to it, criss-crossing the green fields. He knew that each of these barbed wires were hitting a thousand lashes on some poor father's back. “How could people just take away pieces of family land, as if they were some spoils of a war. Why couldn't brothers learn to share? Why couldn't "I" be suppressed to keep "OUR" family together?" The blood being spilled for each piece of land-----it was our own blood. Wasn't it? The symptoms were many, but, the disease was one--Greed. It was greed that made brothers fight each other, it was greed that made one jealous to see his own brother succeed, it was greed that split families. “Why couldn't people be as happy to give up as they were to accept?” thought Ramanand.
His thoughts were broken, when he saw a toddler. Busy playing with some wooden toy. Busy in his own small world, where amma, appa and the toy were all that existed. How innocent he was?Oblivious to the hatred and evil surrounding him. In the distance, the sun was setting, and, he could see the children returning from school. Dressed in white shirt and grey short-pants, carrying the bag on their shoulders. They were the face of the new India. Children brought up in a society, where love and kindness was thought in schools, and, hatred at homes. He asked his driver to stop the car near a water pump.
He cupped his hand below the pump, while the driver operated it. The squeaky sound of the pump lever was soon replaced by the sound of the water flowing. It was cold and refreshing. He could feel the sweetness in his mouth and the freshness in his throat. He could imagine the beauty of the Godavari in his mind, while the water played its magic in his body. Seeing his white ambassador car, soon, a big crowd gathered around him. there were all sorts of people. Farmers hastily removing their turban towels as a mark of respect, women covering their head with ghoonhat and holding it with their mouth, children tugging their mother's saree, old men sitting under the tree, now getting up to see what all this melee was about. All around, he could see poverty---tattered clothes, shanty houses, naked children. There was prosperity in the land, but, it never trickled down here. All around, he heard people begging for help. He could see the sadness in their faces. They were all malnourished. Most had lost the will to live. Poverty and an inefficient administration had already killed them before age could take over. He had seen hardships before. He had seen poverty before, but, he had always seen hope along with it, and today there was none.
And that day, in the squalor of the village, in the midst of the malnourished villagers, standing near the water pump with a tear in his eye, Ramanand Shastry, IAS, Collector of Kakinada, East Godavary district, decided to fight. Fight against the injustices of society. Fight against an inefficient administration of which he was a part .Fight against hatred and greed and bloodshed, and maybe, most importantly, fight to bring a smile on these poor villager's faces.
Mr. Shastry's life had always been a life of struggle, a life of sacrifice, a life where something always had to be lost to get something. Ramanand's eyes moistened when he thought of the day, he had gone to the city. The day when his father had parted with 2 bheegas of zameen, so that he could get enough money to send his son to the city. He still remembered how his father had stifled his tears---tears at the loss of a son to the bustling city, from where he may never return and the loss of his land.... the land of his ancestors..... the land which had been handed over for generations, and had now been sold to a zamindar so that he could give it to somebody else as his daughter's dowry.
Ramanand could see big rocks with barbed wires tied to it, criss-crossing the green fields. He knew that each of these barbed wires were hitting a thousand lashes on some poor father's back. “How could people just take away pieces of family land, as if they were some spoils of a war. Why couldn't brothers learn to share? Why couldn't "I" be suppressed to keep "OUR" family together?" The blood being spilled for each piece of land-----it was our own blood. Wasn't it? The symptoms were many, but, the disease was one--Greed. It was greed that made brothers fight each other, it was greed that made one jealous to see his own brother succeed, it was greed that split families. “Why couldn't people be as happy to give up as they were to accept?” thought Ramanand.
His thoughts were broken, when he saw a toddler. Busy playing with some wooden toy. Busy in his own small world, where amma, appa and the toy were all that existed. How innocent he was?Oblivious to the hatred and evil surrounding him. In the distance, the sun was setting, and, he could see the children returning from school. Dressed in white shirt and grey short-pants, carrying the bag on their shoulders. They were the face of the new India. Children brought up in a society, where love and kindness was thought in schools, and, hatred at homes. He asked his driver to stop the car near a water pump.
He cupped his hand below the pump, while the driver operated it. The squeaky sound of the pump lever was soon replaced by the sound of the water flowing. It was cold and refreshing. He could feel the sweetness in his mouth and the freshness in his throat. He could imagine the beauty of the Godavari in his mind, while the water played its magic in his body. Seeing his white ambassador car, soon, a big crowd gathered around him. there were all sorts of people. Farmers hastily removing their turban towels as a mark of respect, women covering their head with ghoonhat and holding it with their mouth, children tugging their mother's saree, old men sitting under the tree, now getting up to see what all this melee was about. All around, he could see poverty---tattered clothes, shanty houses, naked children. There was prosperity in the land, but, it never trickled down here. All around, he heard people begging for help. He could see the sadness in their faces. They were all malnourished. Most had lost the will to live. Poverty and an inefficient administration had already killed them before age could take over. He had seen hardships before. He had seen poverty before, but, he had always seen hope along with it, and today there was none.
And that day, in the squalor of the village, in the midst of the malnourished villagers, standing near the water pump with a tear in his eye, Ramanand Shastry, IAS, Collector of Kakinada, East Godavary district, decided to fight. Fight against the injustices of society. Fight against an inefficient administration of which he was a part .Fight against hatred and greed and bloodshed, and maybe, most importantly, fight to bring a smile on these poor villager's faces.
