Men lost their arms. Men lost their legs. There were those who couldn’t afford to continue fighting for their rights; those who never returned home. More than 100 farmers were killed during protests he partook in over the last four decades. He saw them starve, bury their children. He saw them return home defeated and […]Read more "‘Never thought about anything other than helping someone in need. A human being is far more important than money…’"
At the crossroads, where Masrudi ended and began roads that led to a settlement of nomads, dust billowed in the streets. Lone clusters of trees rattled in the winds. Few people were in the streets. Fewer in the woods. Along the edges of dead farms were shrubs that sprung into action with gusts of wind […]Read more "‘Water. That’s what we will fight over next…’"
In twilight skies, soared a large flock of birds. Some days, they swore they saw a murmuration of starlings. Most days, they imagined it. One summer afternoon, under the banyan tree, children gathered peanut shells strewn everywhere. Stirring patterns into the ground, they dug up more trash tossing them towards the tree, one by one. […]Read more "‘My husband abandoned us twenty years ago. Drought took away everything I had…’"
He looked at us standing beside them. His eyes lingered on our bare feet. Children scurried along pathways that led to the back alley lest their mothers caught them playing with their friends. It was time for supper. The elders blinked rapidly and held sombre faces. They knew him. “Someone informed me that you have […]Read more "‘I’ll tell you everything about NREGA. Everyone knew what was happening in Masrudi…’"
“My son dropped out of school after ninth grade. The goats are his responsibility now. He keeps telling us he wishes to finish high school some day. But, we are helpless. At least, our girls will study. Maybe, they’ll even go to college. I don’t know. We can’t have too many dreams. I worry […]Read more "‘Even amongst the poor, there lie the poorest who get nothing…’"
The scent of petrichor reminded him of his childhood. His tiny pouch had areca nuts cut neatly into shards. In another bag, betel leaves were arranged lengthwise. They were tied to his waist. Shortly after the rains stopped, he heard the bus. He twirled his moustache as he waited for them. They were friends. For […]Read more "‘It’s easier for them to send her away. She is somebody else’s problem now.’"
“There will be many more deaths in the years to come, many more suicides. You wait and watch,” warned Ganesh as we walked alongside the road looking for stalls that sold lemon juice and cucumbers. “We are running out of water and food. How can a human being survive then? We can’t outwit death.” One […]Read more "If it weren’t for him, I would have killed myself. I thought my family could survive with the compensation…’"