Along the narrow path that crawled through the forest, Prabhu ran fast towards the village. His lungs were screaming for more air but he couldn’t afford to wait. He had to rush as fast as his nine-year-old legs could carry him. The words that Manjunath had said rang harshly in his ears over and over again. “The whole village is in trouble now because of you!” As Prabhu ran he thought about the day it had all begun…
It was just two months back. It had been a holiday because of the meeting the adults were having in their village that day. Adavimallapura is a small, remote village situated in the state of Karnataka. The village has no roads, electricity, telephones and the villagers have to walk four miles to the nearest bus stop. The people in the village were very poor and the only asset they had was the forest that stood by the village side. In spite of all this, Prabhu loved Adavimallapura. The meeting that day was to discuss steps on how to use various government schemes to improve the conditions of Adavimallapura village.
The meeting was being held in Prabhu’s school. The children in the village were shooed away from the meeting. “What will you understand? You will just get bored.” his mother had told him.
“Not fair!” Prabhu shouted as he kicked a stone in the field near the forest. It was a hot afternoon and nobody was outside. No one heard him except Manjunath. Manjunath was Prabhu’s classmate and best friend.
“I would like to know what plans they make for our village in the meeting. After all, this is my village too!” Prabhu complained.
“Oh Prabhu, you know these elders. They think we are small children. What can we do to prove otherwise?” Manjunath said as a matter of fact.
Prabhu opened his mouth to argue but froze at what he saw. Four bullock carts piled with wood were moving stealthily from their forest towards the neighbouring village. “They are stealing wood from our forest…they…they have cut our trees!” Manjunath whispered to Prabhu as they looked on.
Prabhu was furious. “This is outrageous. These men have to be stopped. What can just the two of us do?” Prabhu thought. He suddenly had an idea. He turned towards Manjunath and said “Go get the elders, quick!”
Manjunath looked at him for a brief second and said, "Be careful". He then sped towards the village. Prabhu was scared as he walked up to the thieves' bullock carts. With a stern voice he said, “Hey, cutting trees is wrong. Besides, those trees are very precious to us. I will get you arrested for this… I will not let you take them.”
The thieves started laughing at the little boy. Prabhu was prepared. He just sat in front of the bullock carts. “Very well, if you want to take the wood, you can take it over me!”
The men suddenly stopped laughing. They didn’t know what to do. And before they could even think of a way out, the angry villagers came running. Things happened very fast after that. The culprits were tied up and the wood confiscated. Prabhu became a hero in the village. The police were called and the culprits were handed over to them. There was a great celebration in the village that day.
But the happiness of the Adavimallapur villagers was short lived. The neighbouring villagers were rich, influential and had the police officers on their side. The thieves were soon released and a plan for revenge was made. The Adavimallapura villagers did not know that a false complaint had been made against them. They complaint was that they were cutting trees from the forest illegally!
Today, Prabhu had been to the forest to water a few plants that he had planted when Manjunath came running to him. He told him that there were forest officers in the village. They had seen the wood that had been captured from the thieves and were accusing the villagers of cutting those trees!
Prabhu didn’t wait to hear more. He started running as fast as he could towards the village. “Why are my people being punished? Is it my fault? What went wrong? Not fair!" he fumed.
He heard strange angry voices as he neared the village temple. He then saw officers threatening the villagers with arrest for cutting the trees. The officers were taking the wood with them. Everybody knew that the wood would go back to the neighbouring villagers. Prabhu stared helplessly. What could he do? He looked at all the women who were standing together by the side.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and made a silent prayer. He then took a few steps forward and looked towards the officers who were starting the tractors that were piled with wood. He then looked at the women with tears in his eyes. The women stared back at him and then looked at each other. The old neighbour aunty came to him and said "Don't worry!" and then as if by a silent mutual agreement they all formed neat lines and sat in front of the tractors. “You cannot take our wood!” they all calmly but sternly stated.
Soon the whole village joined them. The officers looked shocked and scared. There was nothing they could do. They knew that the simplicity and unity of these villagers had defeated them. They left the village ashamed, never to return back to trouble them again.
The joy of the people knew no bounds that day. The villagers had learnt a lesson. Every child has her/ his own role to play in conserving nature and should always be encouraged. Prabhu along with the other children in the village took a vow to protect and conserve their forest. The children of Adavimallapur since then have been participating in the village meetings, planting saplings, watering, watching and guarding the forest as a group.
Now, when one goes to this village of Adavimallapur, the first thing one would see is the enthusiasm and love the children have towards their village and forest. Not wrongly they are now better known as the 'young guardians' of the forest.
-Preethi Herman
Adavimallapur is a small village in North Karnataka. The village has a population of around 700 people. The main occupation of the villagers is agriculture. Their forest supports them with the non timber forest produce. The villagers control their village forest and make sure that their forest is being conserved and not exploited by anyone.
Prabhu is twelve years old now and very devoted to his village. Since the village has only a primary school he is now staying in a town 30 kilometres away from his beloved village to pursue his higher studies. He is in the sixth standard and wants to study hard and become a government officer and serve his village and country in the future. He has set an example for all the other children in the village who now keenly look forward to make a contribution to the nature and country that has provided them with so much!
Sunday, 19 December 2010
Rainbow...
It happened so fast. One moment it was there and the next moment it was all over. Just like a rainbow,
that seducts you with its colours, but soon fades away along with its painted spell.The phone, the voice, the words…they were all there, but it was all dry…all bland and gone. It had lost something, there was something missing and I only knew that I didn’t know what it was.The phone call had come in the morning, which was quite surprising, since he never called me in the mornings. It usually came in the evenings and he would have recognized my voice and I, his. But today, he didn’t and neither did I.I had just changed to go to work and was thinking about how complicated things had become in my life. Married for a year and still living alone in a posh apartment with none to keep company other than a pet cat was a thought that did nothing to cheer me. Life had become so complicated, and it had been so lonely, so desolate but simple until…
The phone bell tore into my thoughts and I absently picked the receiver up. It took some time for me to realize that it was Jack on the line. Jack, my husband, whom I had fallen in love with and married after four months of courtship. Jack also sounded preoccupied and wanted to know who it was that he was speaking to. Assured by me that it was his wife of 364 days, he started straightaway. “Hi, hmmm… I kindda have something to tell you and its very important. I hope I haven’t disturbed you.” His very reserved and formal tone was very new and quite disturbing for me. He had always been very sweet and romantic before. We had never argued or atleast, he hadn’t.
“Hi Jack, aren’t you a little too early. I suppose our wedding anniversary is tomorrow.” I tried to lighten that tension that was strangely and yet so strongly prevalent between us.
A sarcastic “ha” was the only response for this attempt at a joke. I don’t clearly remember what he said after that but there were certain words that I do remember and those that cannot be erased from my heart. Words like ’a wonderful American lady’, ‘affair’, ‘three months’ and then that word. That word that changed my whole life. ‘Divorce’ he said, very guiltily. “Do think
about it and…I’m very sorry” he concluded the last conversation we had as a married couple, as husband and wife.I sat there with the receiver in my hand. I was too shocked to place it back. I sat there and thought, remembered, and recollected all those days that had passed by. Those days when Jack and I were in love, that day when we got married, that day when he got that wonderful job offer in America, the day he had flown there and those dreary days that followed.
It all of a sudden came to me. I knew what was missing. It was the love, the trust and the faith we had in each other. He didn’t want to live with me anymore. He wanted to live with that American lady and for that he wanted a divorce. I couldn’t believe it. How could it happen? How the hell did everything happen so fast?
I felt the tears flow down, I heard my scream and then I found myself dialing that number which had become so familiar by now. Like usual it was William, Jack’s best friend who answered the phone.
“Hey Willie, I have news. Jack called up just now to say that he wanted a divorce.” I heard myself say slowly.
“What?” he was stunned.
“With that, this illegal affair will also come to an end” I said.
“Are you sure?” he was still stunned.
“Yes, positive.” I said smiling for the first time that day, “Our prayers have been answered. And now at last, without any emotional hassles with jack, we can get married!”
that seducts you with its colours, but soon fades away along with its painted spell.The phone, the voice, the words…they were all there, but it was all dry…all bland and gone. It had lost something, there was something missing and I only knew that I didn’t know what it was.The phone call had come in the morning, which was quite surprising, since he never called me in the mornings. It usually came in the evenings and he would have recognized my voice and I, his. But today, he didn’t and neither did I.I had just changed to go to work and was thinking about how complicated things had become in my life. Married for a year and still living alone in a posh apartment with none to keep company other than a pet cat was a thought that did nothing to cheer me. Life had become so complicated, and it had been so lonely, so desolate but simple until…
The phone bell tore into my thoughts and I absently picked the receiver up. It took some time for me to realize that it was Jack on the line. Jack, my husband, whom I had fallen in love with and married after four months of courtship. Jack also sounded preoccupied and wanted to know who it was that he was speaking to. Assured by me that it was his wife of 364 days, he started straightaway. “Hi, hmmm… I kindda have something to tell you and its very important. I hope I haven’t disturbed you.” His very reserved and formal tone was very new and quite disturbing for me. He had always been very sweet and romantic before. We had never argued or atleast, he hadn’t.
“Hi Jack, aren’t you a little too early. I suppose our wedding anniversary is tomorrow.” I tried to lighten that tension that was strangely and yet so strongly prevalent between us.
A sarcastic “ha” was the only response for this attempt at a joke. I don’t clearly remember what he said after that but there were certain words that I do remember and those that cannot be erased from my heart. Words like ’a wonderful American lady’, ‘affair’, ‘three months’ and then that word. That word that changed my whole life. ‘Divorce’ he said, very guiltily. “Do think
about it and…I’m very sorry” he concluded the last conversation we had as a married couple, as husband and wife.I sat there with the receiver in my hand. I was too shocked to place it back. I sat there and thought, remembered, and recollected all those days that had passed by. Those days when Jack and I were in love, that day when we got married, that day when he got that wonderful job offer in America, the day he had flown there and those dreary days that followed.
It all of a sudden came to me. I knew what was missing. It was the love, the trust and the faith we had in each other. He didn’t want to live with me anymore. He wanted to live with that American lady and for that he wanted a divorce. I couldn’t believe it. How could it happen? How the hell did everything happen so fast?
I felt the tears flow down, I heard my scream and then I found myself dialing that number which had become so familiar by now. Like usual it was William, Jack’s best friend who answered the phone.
“Hey Willie, I have news. Jack called up just now to say that he wanted a divorce.” I heard myself say slowly.
“What?” he was stunned.
“With that, this illegal affair will also come to an end” I said.
“Are you sure?” he was still stunned.
“Yes, positive.” I said smiling for the first time that day, “Our prayers have been answered. And now at last, without any emotional hassles with jack, we can get married!”
WHOSE FAULT IS IT ANYWAY?
She must have screamed…screamed because of the pain, the terror, the agony and the betrayed trust. Or was she too scared to do even that?
It had started off as a normal day when all things happen like they always do. She had gone to school, played with her friends, sung songs with her teacher and was all excited about her brother’s birthday party in the evening. Rahul Bhaiya had turned seven today. She had already bought him a gift. She was very fond of birthdays, especially if it was hers. Mummy had said that her birthday would soon come along and then she would be four years old. “You will be a big girl then, Anjali.” mummy had told her.
She packed her school bag and got ready to go home. She was very excited as she climbed onto the school bus and sat in her favorite place by the window. That day Ganesh bhaiya took her in his arms and told her that they would go for a special drive after they had dropped everyone. Ganesh bhaiya was the bus driver and also her best friend. He never scolded her, he bought her sweets and sometimes even put her on his lap while he was driving the bus. Anjali loved rides and she looked forward to that one that evening.
But the ride that day wasn’t very pleasant. Ganesh bhaiya had taken her to a lonely place and soon started removing her clothes saying that they were dirty and that he would give her a new one. The cleaner bhaiya just watched them. They then started touching her everywhere and teasing her. She did not know what was happening. Was Ganesh bhaiya good or bad? Was she supposed to smile and laugh like they did? She wanted to cry. She did not like what they were doing. It hurt too much….
Anjali soon fainted because of the pain. She woke up after sometime and found the cleaner bhaiya wiping away some blood on the seat. Whose blood was that? Hers? Ganesh bhaiya then took her to an ice-cream parlour and bought her lots of ice cream. He said that he had to hurt her because he really loved her. He also asked her not to tell anybody about what happened. ”It will remain our secret” he said. Anjali didn’t know what to say. She just nodded her head.
By the time she reached home, the pain was unbearable. She could not walk. As soon as she saw her mother she burst out crying.
It became a big issue in town. People discussed about it everywhere, the police arrested the two culprits and it was decided that every school has to provide transportation for its students. Mama asked her not to tell anybody anything and she was kept in the house for more than a week. “My parents seemed to know so much about it…it seems that so many such incidents have happened before. Couldn’t they just have warned me?”
People spoke in whispers when she was around. A couple of days passed and the whole thing was forgotten. Life was normal again.
“But what do I do?” Anjali heard something scream within her. “Will I be able to go to school without fear now? Will I ever be able to let others, even papa, touch or carry me? Will I ever be able to trust anyone again? Will I ever be the same again?”
It had started off as a normal day when all things happen like they always do. She had gone to school, played with her friends, sung songs with her teacher and was all excited about her brother’s birthday party in the evening. Rahul Bhaiya had turned seven today. She had already bought him a gift. She was very fond of birthdays, especially if it was hers. Mummy had said that her birthday would soon come along and then she would be four years old. “You will be a big girl then, Anjali.” mummy had told her.
She packed her school bag and got ready to go home. She was very excited as she climbed onto the school bus and sat in her favorite place by the window. That day Ganesh bhaiya took her in his arms and told her that they would go for a special drive after they had dropped everyone. Ganesh bhaiya was the bus driver and also her best friend. He never scolded her, he bought her sweets and sometimes even put her on his lap while he was driving the bus. Anjali loved rides and she looked forward to that one that evening.
But the ride that day wasn’t very pleasant. Ganesh bhaiya had taken her to a lonely place and soon started removing her clothes saying that they were dirty and that he would give her a new one. The cleaner bhaiya just watched them. They then started touching her everywhere and teasing her. She did not know what was happening. Was Ganesh bhaiya good or bad? Was she supposed to smile and laugh like they did? She wanted to cry. She did not like what they were doing. It hurt too much….
Anjali soon fainted because of the pain. She woke up after sometime and found the cleaner bhaiya wiping away some blood on the seat. Whose blood was that? Hers? Ganesh bhaiya then took her to an ice-cream parlour and bought her lots of ice cream. He said that he had to hurt her because he really loved her. He also asked her not to tell anybody about what happened. ”It will remain our secret” he said. Anjali didn’t know what to say. She just nodded her head.
By the time she reached home, the pain was unbearable. She could not walk. As soon as she saw her mother she burst out crying.
It became a big issue in town. People discussed about it everywhere, the police arrested the two culprits and it was decided that every school has to provide transportation for its students. Mama asked her not to tell anybody anything and she was kept in the house for more than a week. “My parents seemed to know so much about it…it seems that so many such incidents have happened before. Couldn’t they just have warned me?”
People spoke in whispers when she was around. A couple of days passed and the whole thing was forgotten. Life was normal again.
“But what do I do?” Anjali heard something scream within her. “Will I be able to go to school without fear now? Will I ever be able to let others, even papa, touch or carry me? Will I ever be able to trust anyone again? Will I ever be the same again?”
Heredity or acquired?
Like Super man navigating through the mass of debris to rescue the innocent.....I was just wondering the other day..... what is it that makes some people more sensitive to things than the others? Heredity? ailment? childhood? psychological disorder?
I have been branded sensitive by someone whose opinion i real care about and come to think of it, hell, I am!!! So, on a mission to find out why, how and when....I set out with just faint memories to help me through the way. Asking parents would be a bad idea..you would immediately be branded psycho! My first sucess was on negating 'Heredity' from the list.... I have relatives who , if not for their mallu accents, the huge rumbling bellies and skin tone, I would have mistaken to be descendants of the stiff upper lip! ... to be contd....
I have been branded sensitive by someone whose opinion i real care about and come to think of it, hell, I am!!! So, on a mission to find out why, how and when....I set out with just faint memories to help me through the way. Asking parents would be a bad idea..you would immediately be branded psycho! My first sucess was on negating 'Heredity' from the list.... I have relatives who , if not for their mallu accents, the huge rumbling bellies and skin tone, I would have mistaken to be descendants of the stiff upper lip! ... to be contd....
Wednesday, 19 May 2010
indistinct now
Shadows of them, of hands across the page
Shadows of your feet, across the bed
The whirl of the fan
The smooth caress of the breeze, of your touch
Quiet moment; speaks without words,
Of affirmation, faith and love,
Of the wonder that is life
Of the quiet surrender to the moment
And us.
Saturday, 29 March 2008
Flying free
Flying is not about wings. And its begining to dawn on me more than ever. Its about a feeling. A feeling of shedding everything you have down on earth and soaring high. Up, up and above, amidst the blue, teasing the wind and chasing the clouds. Its about becoming light enough to resist the forces that drag you down. A feeling of lightness, of freedom, happiness and peace. And then my friend, you are flying!
How are you?
How are you? A question that has been asked by 100 people a 1000 times. Almost everywhere we go. Go to a friend, a relative, a teacher, an acquaintance, any professional…anybody and the first thing they ask you is—HOW ARE YOU? Sometimes I really do wonder if we know what we are asking and even if we do, do we really expect a honest, well thought response?
It is taken for granted that everything is ok... Most of the time we don’t even wait for a response. We just go ahead with the rest of the conversation, which would mainly have lots more of these standardized phrases that are there in ones vocabulary as some sort of icebreaker or rather an opening statement. The irony of it all is the fact that most of us know the answer is also going to be on the same lines- “great!”, “I’m fine”, “good” “well, going on!”. And the most hilarious part is the fact that we don’t even listen to it! i wonder if it is because most of the time we are so engrossed in thinking about all the things that has to be said next that we don’t even listen to what is actually being said now.
Like it happened to me a couple of weeks ago. A friend of mine meets me and and uses the famous three words- “How are you?”, I, not exactly in the pink of my health that time and so I told her that I wasn’t all that fine. She just looked at me and said I heard you get good coffee in that restaurant there, wanna go?
But does that mean that if it weren’t for the overused menu of words or phrases like “How are you?” “Howz life?”, “How is everything?” a person would not know what to say or how to start speaking to somebody? If we didnt have these standard cliched opening sttements... how would we start?
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