Questions for society

“Hey, what are you doing here?” I spoke, my breaths visible in the mist surrounding me.

“Nothing! You go away!” he shrieked.

He had a few broken pieces of the chalice we used during Christmas and was constantly gazing his hand. He took me by the hand, literally pushed me out of the room. Then the door closed. I was standing still for a few minutes. The only sound was of the ticking of the clock. But it was not for long, just a minute after, I heard a loud scream from inside the room. A scream that scared the hell out of me. A deadly silence followed and I collapsed in fear.

The next I can recall is my mother acting hysterical seeing my brother’s body drowned in blood. I was too young to understand that. I was 4. I didn’t see my father once in my life. I was told he died when my mother was 4 months pregnant. I didn’t know how it feels to eradicate people from your life who you encounter daily. I was taken away from the scene and never told why he died. I used to ask my mother what happened but never told what I saw that night.

This was my first encounter with life. It left me flabbergasted. I wanted to know things that led my brother to commit that sin. I used to read suicide notes of people when I was 8. I wanted to know about each and every wire in the brain that compelled my brother and those people to forget about their life, their family and take a decision in a split second which potentially, split apart lives of many.

I am still struggling with that thought and trying to find an answer. But this is not the only incident that has left me contemplating, confused and terrified. There have been things happening around me, my society, my country India and the world that has led me to the incessant path which has its dead end on the same question. Are we creating a safer future?

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The next thing that left me puzzled, happened when I was 8, lonely but free around the backwaters of the Ganges, the largest river in India. It was the time when my mother was very possessive about me. Or I should say she was scared to lose me as well. We were in Kolkata, a famous city in the eastern periphery of India. I was fond of rivers from childhood so my mother took me to the famous Princep ghats, the porch built in the memory of James Princep, a famous British scholar.

While my mother was busy doing something, I ran towards the corner of the ghat. I was busy playing with water when I saw a boy, probably of the same age as mine carrying approximately a 10 kg bag of garbage to throw in the river. I suddenly stood in his way.

“Hey! Get aside. Don’t you see I have a heavy bag on my shoulders?” he shrugged.

I was standing confused thinking about his shabby appearance. Clothes torn apart which revealed his malnourished body, cuts on his hands and legs indicated he was in pain. I couldn’t resist myself.

“You don’t have clothes to wear? What are you doing with this large not-so-good-smelling thing?” He put the bag on the ground.

“Yes. This is the only piece of thing I got to wear. I am a rag picker. I have to throw this garbage in the river.”

I was bewildered. Ragpicker? What’s that? Is it a special privilege to people? Am I also a rag picker?

I was muddled but curious.

“Am I a rig picker as well?” I asked.

He took my hand, had a long look at it as if he was searching for a specific spot but didn’t find anything.

“You are not a rag picker. You don’t have the mark. See this.” He showed me his hand which had a small circle on the elbow. I tried to rub it but failed. He took his bag and left. But I was there, standing still, the cool breeze from the river striking my face.

It seemed like I was lost in a pandemonium. I went back to my mother. Pointing finger at the boy, I asked her why I am not like him. She kissed my forehead and told that I am special. I was happy momentarily but that black circle circumscribed my head. And then another thought struck me. I was told that river, mountains, trees and the other elements of nature are holy. They should be worshipped. Then why were people throwing garbage in the most pious river of the nation? What would be its condition in future?

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These are my questions for the society. And, I hope to find the answers one day.