WEARY WOMAN

Sore feet against the rough gravel march endlessly on, We tired, desperate women walk miles every morn. Need for water forces us- the taps are brimming with sewage, Our reddish eyes welling with tears of anguish and justifiable rage. Our husbands –unemployed drunkards; abuse and ill-treat us, The memsahibs curse at us for laziness- tell us not to whine and fuss. Our children need to be sent to school; the memsahib will want sweeping, Nobody cares for the hearts of poor women; in despair and agony, weeping. The glib politicians make us promises of water cooingly every year, In hope, we vote; yet, we still must, the crushing problem, endure. Yet, we still taste scorching heat of day, as we trudge along, Shoving and bustling for a bucket of water through the swarming throng. Our rights taken away from us, yet no voice to complain, Crushed by the WHAT voices; those that prefer to ignore pain. Men in suits, why do you not see us, standing here, sweat on brow? Well- dressed women- of our sufferings, what do you know? Unheard and neglected, our voices trailing off amidst the din, Struggling against a suffocating system, against which we cannot win. A resource that ought to be ours- yet, one we must strive to get, Our spirits sink in sorrow- the lines on face tauten with anxiety and fret. Now standing in the memsahib’s kitchen, watching the pearly jet from the tap, Her little son is playing with the paper- boats in a bowl of water on her lap. I watch hungrily as the water splashes noisily; parched tongue gropes, While hands clench with fury at the unfairness, the heart still hopes… – by Siddharth Srinivasan

Where the earth bleeds blue

I don’t remember how I came here. The knowledge of the road only known to a chosen few. I remember opening my eyes to see two tall hills, the tallest, till all your eyes could see. Between the two tallest hills ran a sparkling blue stream. The grey pebbles separating the sparkling blue of the stream from the lush green of the trees, one would seldom see civilians roaming around freely. The only people moving around within a 10 mile radius were men, skins darkened by the sun, usually sporting a small coarse dark beard and always with an AK-47. These men voluntarily living away from home and fighting for what they accept, a common cause. To kill someone, one had to always say ‘neel senar joy’, a sacred tradition as considered.

It has been almost five years, since I first set my foot in these jungles. Before I did that, my father, brother and both uncles had already martyred their lives to the cause, the same I am part of right now. It was only a matter of time, for me to follow his footsteps. At the age of 15, I joined the blue army or locally known as ‘neel sena’. The only cost of joining-leave with your death. But the person who almost single handedly inspired me to join the blue army most was Boro.

Boro had gained almost a cult status in the neighbouring villages. A pacifist between his brothers and antagonist for the zamindars and industrialists. How he single-handedly fought off twenty Zamindar’s men, still remains one of the most discussed happenings in our village; at least that was so the last time I was home.

Here, at the blue camp or neel dera as it was locally known as, Boro was the only other from my village. We used to occasionally meet up and discuss places, where to put up the next blockage or which minister or businessman to target next. They were all the same, some selling coal, some iron, some copper and some adivasi land (that was quite profitable as well) and these people were easiest to get money out of since they mostly had it in black, but so you would think. Taking money out of these hardened criminals was always tougher than innocent civilians. But that was not what we were after, the easy money.

Boro was like a big brother to me. He was the one would listen to me and share his ideas and principles. In him, I kept my faith.One afternoon, Boro told me ‘Pack your kit, we are going in for the big kill.’Being only a field apprentice, unaware of the codes, I asked ‘What big kill?’

‘Don’t ask question, just get ready, jaldi!’ (Fast)

Ironically neel sena does not wear blue, but a green overall with no pockets. It is rumoured that a blue solider either gets shot or his pockets get caught (by the tree branches), one can guess which is more embarrassing. By the time we reached, it was already dark. The roadblock was already set up and we were just in time. It were only a matter of minutes that the white ambassador would halt, or so was the plan. A walkie-talkie confirmed that the car had entered the valley. All cars stop at the roadblock, they know it’s a certain death otherwise. And so did this one.

There were three inside, the driver and two sitting behind. I had witnessed dozens of roadblocks but this one was different, it had a different air to it. We maintained silence for quite some time, this doesn’t usually happen. Khurpa the camp leader approached the car.

Without a single remorse, he uttered the words ‘neel senar joy’ and shot the man, the driver and the third member. Wait! This is not how we go about missions. There is always a negotiation! We are redistributors, rebels and outlaws, but not murderers. As I neared the white ambassador now with glasses red with splashes, I recognized the face. The man sitting behind was a minister, in his early thirties, short hair and the khadi shirt which had now stopped draining blood. I have seen him earlier, in the camp TV, a strong man of principles, liked as well as disliked for his stand on anticorruption issues, also a man with strong opinions against the Blue movement. On the other side a kid, barely half my age, the bullet through the side of his temple implied that he had not been woken up from his dreams when he was put into another.

Khurpa came to me, while I was still lost in the illusionary peaceful gaze of the child. He knew about this, everyone must have known about this, we always do.

‘Wake up kid! Help me push this car to the ditch’, his voice echoed in my mind.

He shook me twice before I came back to my senses.

A knee jerk reaction to the existing authority governing my actions, burst my mind with thousands of questions full of anger and disgust. My mind was set-run. Run anywhere but from this terrible place with terrible people. People calling behind me to stop. I ran and ran, until I no more could.

No food, no water, it felt like it had been hours. Honestly, I didn’t know where I was running, it could be towards the camp itself. It was almost dawn till I heard a familiar voice calling my name. It was Boro! He was here, maybe he too had left the camp after the gruesome murder and came trying to follow my trail. Two heads are always better than one. He was alone, hence trustable. I called out his name. In response he screamed ‘neel senar joy’. Somewhere behind me, I heard two gunshots. My eyes closed slowly as the numbness of the bullets grasped me and I fell to the ground. Maybe there was a tear in my eye as it blurred the vision and dulled my imagination.

— by Ishan Banerjee

THE CONFESSION OF A HOUSEWIFE

It was the fall. The yards were filled with dry leaves. I, Sarah Catherine James, am a housewife to Richard James and merely a sexual affair to Richard’s friend, Jonathan. And that’s not the start, this is where I end my life. I am going to die, just like the leaves in the fall.

And now, the start: Richard proposed me, it was the best day of my life, I was more than ready to marry him, and we were wife and husband after ending our 2 years of relationship. The starting days were normal. We were broke, since we married at 19. We worked hard, just for ourselves, just for our food and our graduation. We graduated at 21. Richard got a new job and he seemingly was busy. It was not too late that I also got a job. My job was to take care of the house. My job was to eat, sleep and clean the house. I was vexed, I was tired of it, and my husband got a promotion. I knew it was going to get harder. I talked to him to reduce his work and spend time with me. He was nice to be with me on Sundays, but not alone, he had to get his friends and play cards all the time. I got used to the routine, and I never asked anything else. Not that I wanted sex, we had it a lot of times..I needed love, it was hard for him to give the love I wanted.

I was getting lonely, frustrated and yet, I had to maintain the marriage, and so I had to carry on with this same routine, until one day. It was Sunday, he came along with his friends and there was a new one. My husband came to me smiling, he introduced – “Sarah, this is Jonathan and Jonathan, this is my wife Sarah.” Jonathan was fair and had a slight athletic build. His blue eyes and his brown hair could grab anyone’s attention. His voice was soft, and slightly hard to hear. And he continued – ” You know what? She just makes the best pancakes ever. Sarah, could you make some, darling?”. I smiled and agreed, my husband left to play the game. At least, his friend was nice enough to thank me.

I was out of flour, and I was not going to move my ass out of the house, just to make my husband’s friend a pancake. I went to my husband, handed him over a slip, and no, he won’t stop playing, he wants to stay there itself. I rushed out, I was furious, I took the slip,money, I left to buy. His new friend wanted to accompany me. I suppose he was trying to be nice. I agreed, there was no reason to not.

“I am sorry. It was my fault to tell that I liked pancakes. I didn’t expect this.”

“No need to apologize, it’s not like you wanted it. I don’t have a problem.”

“I heard, you were married in college. Was he always into cards or just a new habit of his?”

“Oh, don’t ask me. He’s lost a lot in this and thanks to that, we just cancelled many of our dates. At least, after we got married, he worked very hard to maintain the marriage and his studies. ” I smiled.

“How far is this mart, we are heading to? Oh, by the way, you’re blushing.”

“Sorry, it’s just at the end of the street.” I smiled again.

We reached the mart, bought the stuff. Jonathan brought home all the ingredients. I went to the kitchen, without looking at Richard. I had sufficient items to make a lunch for everyone. I asked everyone to come to the dining table. Richard, Swift(another one of his friends) and Jonathan helped me in setting up the table. The lunch didn’t matter. What they wanted was the beer. Not that my food was bad, it’s just that the men couldn’t complete a dinner without beer. I just told them to go get the beer themselves. I was cold, but it did work. They all went to buy beer for themselves. Actually, they all went to the bar. It was fine with me. I’ll pretend it’s just another working day to him.

I was sleeping, until there was a call on the line. Guess who? It was Jonathan.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“No problem. Why aren’t you with them?”
“I am done. I don’t drink a lot, also I had to drive home. Uh, may I come in?”
“Sorry, let me just…come back to my senses.”

I ran to the hall, opened the door for Jonathan. I gave him a seat and sat there with him. A few moments of ‘alone’, and what do you expect from a lonely housewife? No, we didn’t kiss, neither did we talk. Just sitting together for a while, silently talking through heart, talking about each other’s desires, silently, without a word. We both knew, we were going to do something bad sooner or later.

2 months passed and Jonathan became his best friend, also mine. If Richard and I didn’t have fights, we could have stayed best friends. Now, he’s my affair. I know he’s using me for his physical desires. But at least, he’s noticing me. We would just wait for my husband to leave for the office. Initially everything is fun, my marriage, my affair….everything. Until, I got pregnant and that’s not because of my husband. This whole nine months, I could not find a trace of Jonathan on Sundays or on any other day. He just disappeared. He didn’t answer my calls. I understood, that was it. Just like any man, he also abandoned
me as soon as he knew he’s going to be a father.

I had a girl, her name Jennifer, since it started with’ J’. That should remind me of my mistakes everyday. Jonathan started appearing again, now, not as my husband’s Sunday friend. But, as a molester…as a black-mailer, he came to the house everyday. I was scared, what if my husband knew whose baby she was. He used me, with that excuse, everyday and sometimes, even when my husband was home. He insisted, he persuaded, he forced me to come out of the house, to his place. It got worse, when he got his friends too.

My daughter was growing up. She’s 5 now, and Jonathan didn’t stop yet. For 5 years, I have been his slave. This already affected my marriage, my husband’s starting to have doubts. He’s been getting angry, not that he’s just hurting me, he’s also hurting himself and the baby.

Jennifer, her gentle smile, was slowly turning into a disappointed frown. Her face, her scars, all of them, were making me remember my mistakes. It was time to face the truth. I had to get rid of Jonathan, rebuild my marriage and give my kid a happy life.

“I am not going to listen to you anymore. Leave me alone. If you are going to blackmail me with the truth. So be it, I myself am going to tell the truth to him. You can get the hell out my life now.”
I turned around to leave his house. He dragged me back. He pushed me onto his bed. I was scared, but to my shock….
“I am sorry, but don’t tell this to your husband. Please, he’s going to desert my daughter.”
He was crying. No matter what he did to me, he loved his daughter. I was happy, but again, I could not be with him anymore. I had to get rid of him. But I couldn’t and I don’t know why.

“Okay, promise me that you won’t use me. Promise that you will take care of your daughter. You will come home to love her.”
“Sure, I promise.”
I came home, I was happy, but again it’s Sunday and I am scared what my husband would do today.
“Sarah, come here. Cook me something NOW and I am going to kill you if it’s going to taste bad. My friends are coming and you better bring the beer before they arrive.”

My daughter was sleeping and it’s nice that she is. She didn’t have to listen to all of this. I silently went around, took the car keys and went to the bar to get the beer first and then, all of the ingredients. By the time I came back, his friends were back. Even Jonathan.

The food was served, but this time, it’s just me and Jonathan doing the serving.

We had our relation back, and I meant, the relation with Jonathan. The routine changed from ‘eat, sleep and clean the house’ to a very gross, indecent affair. It was not very long, that Jennifer got to know about our affair. We made love at the house, locking her in her room. I soon realized the reason I didn’t get rid of him back then. I was lonely, just like the time my husband went working. My daughter now 13, hates me more than Richard.

She hated her life, having been born to us. Slowly, I even realized Jonathan had me in mind, he never wanted the child. Jennifer was unwanted to neither of the men. I was unwanted to Richard and Jennifer. Richard was unwanted to me and Jonathan. Jonathan was unwanted to Richard and Jennifer.

How do I know, I am unwanted? This is the conversation my daughter had with Richard.

“Dad, she comes around with him all the time”

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know, but she walks around all the time with him, She does stuff with him”

“You wait. Let me check it myself”

The whole family got destroyed, just because of a simple affair. I asked Jonathan to take me to a date, all of a sudden, to check if at least, he loved me.

“Tell me, do you like me?”

“Yeah, I always did.” He rubbed his legs around mine under the table. When I looked at him, he winked. I knew he was lying.

“Would you marry me, if I left Richard?”

After a long pause..”Uhh, yes”

He’s lying. He can’t even hide his lies.”So be it, I am going to file a divorce tomorrow.”

“NO” His face was filled with terror. “Let’s have some more time together.”

“No, we are going to marry”

“Please, let me think of it. I am not sure if I should do this.”

“You had no problem telling me that you loved me, you have no problem in telling that you want tomarry me. But you just have the problem when I say the same?”

“How can I believe you, how am I going to marry a lady who’s had an affair?” He blurted out.

“So I am just a slut. who you can use whenever you want to? I am just a thing for you, you don’t love me,you just love sex. Leave me alone from now.”

I rushed out of the Cafe. He chased me, he caught me tight…”Please, give me time.”

“No…just leave me alone. You are just using me and now, you are just harassing me. Leave me alone.

People started to gather around. I shouted for help. He pushed me away. I had to go. I was sad, I was crying. No one cared.

::And now, I, Sarah Catherine James, husband of Richard James and merely a sexual affair to Jonathan Carrie, am going to end my life here and now. Just, like the leaves in the fall.

– by Vennam Vaibhav

Summer specials at Casa Kitchen

A question was playing on my mind for some time- Does Kolkata celebrate summer foods in the eating out space? After all, this is just not the weather to eat out to one heart’s content. One feels like having a light meal and craves for refreshing drinks to quench thirst and stay hydrated. So when I received an invitation for a special bloggers’ preview of a summer food festival from Casa Kitchen, the fine dining multicuisine restaurant & bar on AJC Bose Rd, between Minto Park and Camac Street, I was happy.

It is called Summer Time Soiree- a fare of salads, cold sandwiches and refreshing cocktails & mocktails. I was welcomed by Mr Swarup Ghosh, GM of Hotel Casa Fortuna, which houses the restaurant. Also present was Mr Shantanu Lahiri, Chief Advisor to the hotel. He has a long experience of serving in 5-star properties in the hospitality industry and now runs a consultancy firm for hotels and restaurants.

The welcome drink was a cucumber-based one, called Cucumber Curry Leaf Lemonade. It was refreshing, especially so in a hot and extremely humid summer day.

Shantanu shared with us the idea behind holding the festival. In summer we do not crave for rich and spicy food, and that’s bad for health too. So they thought of curating foods and drinks with ingredients that are cooling, hydrating and full of antioxidants to take care of both gastromomic need and health. We bloggers were discussing all things culinary with Swarup and Shantanu, while Swarup told us about a mocktail they make with guava juice which is a take on Bloody Mary and reminds us of having raw guava with black salt mixed with red chili powder (commonly known as jhaalnoon in Bengali). It’s named Chatka Marie. We found it interesting and it was served. The taste of ripe guava with a recreated hint of vodka and a lick of the salt covering the rim in between sips made for a good time. It is not on the menu of Summer Time Soiree, but available on demand. Try it if you make a visit.

Coming to the menu, it starts with the coolers. There it has six fruit-based coolers and mocktails like Deep Blue Sea- a yellow and green mocktail of mango and pineapple, Just Peachy- a frozen drink with peach and orange and Fruity Delight- mixed fruit juice with vanilla ice cream and hints of strawberry crush, made to be loved by the kids. They are priced Rs 175  each (without taxes).

In cocktails there is a choice of eight made with whisky, vodka, rum, tequila and gin. Keeping with the theme, there are fruity options like Blood Orange Sunrise with orange juice and whisky on the rocks and Kiwi Cooler with kiwi, white rum and cranberry juice. The tequila lovers may wish to indulge in a Mango Margarita (frozen cocktail infused with tequila and fresh mango) while those who like vodka cocktails can go for Pink Glow Splash and the gorgeous looking White Russian (a classic cocktail with vodka, coffee liqueur and cream). They are priced Rs 475 each (without taxes).

The food section is all about salads with two sandwiches thrown in. The Watermelon Sandwich is a simple yet innovative take on watermelon made this season and for this festival. It’s fresh, round watermelon slices sprinkled with home-made feta. Cool Casa Sandwich is a rich preparation of pickled zucchini, tomatoes, bell pepper, onion, baby corn, gherkins and mustard mayonnaise between multi-grain bread slices. Liked its lightly spicy and tangy taste. Next came Woldorf Salad- apple pieces tossed with apple acid vinegar, mayonnaise and pieces of walnut. Loved the combo of apple and walnut with the sauce playing catalyst. It’s easily my pick of the menu and it will be loved by fruit salad lovers.

I also sampled Mediterranean Salad with Balsamic Glaze and Vegetable Caeser Salad, both of which should be liked by green salad lovers. The first one is char-grilled veggies, including bell pepper, with balsamic glaze and the latter is iceberg lettuce tossed with garlic mayonnaise and croutons. Also liked the tangy taste of the simple pasta salad thanks to the cocktail sauce.

Shantanu wanted us to taste their paneer tikka and said that the paneer is made in house to maintain a certain quality. The dish was served sizzler style. Though I am not an admirer of anything made of paneer as I consider it a character-less ingredient, I liked the taste. Yes, the paneer was better.

It was wonderful to meet friends and fellow bloggers and bond over food & drinks. Poorna of the blog PresentedbyP (one of city’s best food blogs), Anindya of Pikturenama and Indrajit of A Bong Petuk’s Diary were present. Also met Sanjay Sagar, a veteran professional photographer, who love shooting food & beverages.

So head for this summer food fest if you are in the mood for this kind of food.

Summer Time Soiree

18th to 31st May

11 am to 11 pm

Cost for two- Rs 1000 + tax

Casa Kitchen

234/1 AJC Bose Road

Kolkata 700020

For table reservations call 033 40218050 or 8017088003.

– by Anirban Halder

LAST BREATH FOR HER FIRST LOVE…..

Married off at the age of 13, she had faced a lot. Burnt with iron rods by her mother in law for not fulfilling her son’s ruthless desires. Her father in law himself slept with her every alternate day. What to say of them, when her own family had her married off to the beast of twice her age, for money. She was just a piece of meat exploited for her body.

But she was not weak.  At a young age of 10 she used to carry her brother on her back and walk miles to get water. When her mother was sick, she was the one who made food in the dense smoke of coal. Nevertheless to mention she burnt herself many a times, trying to heat the roti with bare hands. She had begged and pleaded the doctor for attending her father when he was taken down by flu, and instead had to pay her body as his fees. Throughout life she was tortured and what she learnt was the world was hungry for her body. She started using it as her method to live in this world. When 15 she was taken away by some goons and was introduced to prostitution. She somehow liked that profession cause now, she was being paid for her body and the customers handled her more gently than her husband .She took the job as her part time and secretly continued earning money. She was also in demand. The lady running the racket had a special liking for her, so she gave her the high class customers. Living a better life than before, she cared for her body, because that was her only identity. This continued for some years.

Once she was going through the narrow lanes of her slum, when she met a foreigner. He looked like a man of decent background. He saw her and asked her to guide him through the city and accompany him for sightseeing. She wanted to say “No”, fearing that her husband would get angry if he would know of all this. But then she said “Yes”, because she knew that his punishment would mean his bodily force on her and forced physical activity. Now she was so used to it, that even if somebody would unclothe her, it wouldn’t have mattered to her. This was the immune her childhood had given her.

She accompanied that foreigner through the narrow street and out on the main road. She took him past the temple, not even once did she bow in front of god, cause what he had given her was nothing but pain.  Today it seemed ages since she looked at the old deity kept in the temple. It was somehow old, and faded memories of her playing with her brother in the courtyard came alive. Her mother putting the garland around the pious tree. At once she wanted to forget all those days, as they caused her heart to beat fast and she did not like that uneasy feeling.

She had never looked back towards her family after the day they threw her out of the house for a second time. It was a dark night, when her husband came all drunk and forced her on the bed. With his big and hard hands, he tore of the kanchuli of her sari. She lay there crying shouting out loud for help. Her mother- in- law saw it all but without interfering she went away. Even when her younger sister -in- law tried to invade, she was pushed away. There lay that small girl crying her guts out but nobody cared. Since the guy was drunk, she gathered enough courage and pushed him off the bed and ran away to her house. But what her mother did was throw her out. “We are poor people, we have to feed your 2 brothers. You have been sold, go away and don’t bring us any shame. Your in-laws house is the only 1 you have now.” She smiled to herself, thinking about who brought shame to whom. She expected her younger brother to help her, but she had no idea that he had been locked in his room for trying to help his sister get away from the evil.

She turned to look at where the foreigner must have gone. A turn she took and “click” he clicked her smooth face and that smile she had forgotten to remove of her glossy pink lips.  The whole day she took him through the market and the sea shore and all other places of importance.

The sun had begun to set, they both sat on the sand dunes. While he showed the pics he clicked in his camera, her attention was on his face, his eyes, the hand movements, the expressions, and the excitement. She had seen people get excited on her touch, but this guy’s excitement was above all. He was so engrossed in himself. Suddenly he took his eyes off his camera and looked at her, with a gentle smile. She was brought back to reality, she looked at him with the innocence which she had been lost some 8 years ago. She bent over him and gave a peck on his cheek, then she got up and looked at him with looks of a child. He held her hand with utmost softness and brought her near him. The feeling she never felt before. Never had she been handled like a doll of clay. He put her hair behind her ear and took out a pair of Jhumkas from his pocket and handed it to her as if asking her to wear those. She did and he captured that lovely moment in his camera. When she demanded for the pic to be shown, she saw all that his camera had caught was only her with the scenes. She was there in every image captured and so was she captured in his heart. She had this infatuation toward him, but she did not want to malign him with her dirty past.

I will take you with me he said. We can live a nice life away from these places. “I, I, I am not meant for you. I am impure. I am a, a …” she could not continue any more. She had broken. All that pain she had boldly faced now wanted to free themselves. She wanted to shout and give them away. Her body turned hot with fever. She had never felt somebody so soft. Nobody had ever touched her with love. Slowly he went up to her, picked her in his arms, and carried her. Soon she started feeling numb, he looked at her, and she was up with high fever. He kissed her fore head. And there was a smile on her face and she lay still. She did not move.

All these years she had waited for love to happen. And when it did, she was freed from all her pains, all her pasts vanished with that 1 kiss, all her tortures was rubbed away with 1 touch of love and now the body she had so cared for was no more hers, she had left for her heavenly abode, with that smile of love….

– by Surabhi Sircar

A Mirror Of Our Attitude

Sitting and yawning on a lazy and a sunny afternoon, I was half way in the completion of the process of yawning, that suddenly the fan started shaking. I started to imagine that everything will break and I will enter my land of dreams.

The land where everything is pure and I will connect and intertwine with my mother Earth. I will have direct contact with my master. But soon I was out of my “wild imagination”. My phone started to vibrate and had 4 missed calls. By this time I knew nature has growled on me. Have I done something wrong? Have I stolen something from her? A sudden darkness enveloped me.

I got engrossed in my own world and started thinking. It’s been 18 years; I am living as a tenant on this earth. Have I paid my rent or was I so cruel that I destroyed my own rental house? Man’s greed is increasing day by day. To satiate his thirst, it is stooping to the lowest level. Imagine we (man) are playing a cricket match with the mother Earth. But wait! I have made a small change in the rules. The change is–if your team loses, you lost (obviously). But if other team loses, still you lost . Yes my dear friends you read it correctly . OK, let me clear the confusion!!. If your opponent (Earth) wins, you lose. This is because every ball (task) you lose adds to her anger which will ultimately lead to her blast. She will make sure that she eats you up! If you win, still you lose in the game of life. WEIRD! Every ball that goes up in the air and you hit a six (accomplish your task) adds stink to the existing fowling air.

AM I BLABBERING??? NO!!!

Man was fortunate to get a place in the solar system. We inherited it from our ancestors and have to return it to our children. We created industries, which gave us our products, in turn contributed to pollution. We have the rivers which gave us pure water but in turn we gave our filth and dirt making it black water. We had the forests, green green forests, we took the trees and converted it into barren land.

Don’t you think we have contributed a lot? Really? WE CONTRIBUTED TO MEET OUR OWN END. The unseasonal changes in the climate, the harsh winters and boiling summers are the consequences of our deeds. All these activities are converting this blue ball into a black ball. Oh my god! A black ball in the solar system. Just think, our children books will have a picture of earth as a BLACK BALL!! Even thinking about this sends shudders down my spine. Have we lost the pragmatic approach towards life or have we learned to ignore things and create extenuating circumstances? Are we turning a deaf ear to the shrieking voice of her? She becomes hot (anger), we sweat. She becomes cold (harsh), we shiver. The world has never experienced the two extremes of her.

To make a child, understand a thing, the mother teaches patiently. Then only she beats her child. Same is the case with our mother earth. The beatings of her have no voice, no sound but have dreadful consequences! Someone truly said “Ignorance is Bliss”. But who knows when this blissfulness of ours make things so difficult for us that we have no idea– how to stitch together all the asunder created by the so called best creation of god—‘MAN’?

— by Oshin Shakdwipee