|
|
|
| |
|
|
| The Great Divide |
By:
Vivek Shivram |
|
The Great Divide
Firing was incessant along the roadside in the usually quiet city of Indore, M.P. India. The state’s BJP wing had declared a statewide closure of everything that gave the people of the underdeveloped state a decent living. That’s right, shops, schools, colleges, offices were all shut down. The clock was ticking away, yet violence did not recede...
For Harsh Desai, this was a pure nightmare. He had no idea whatsoever where his parents were. He was waiting for them to pick him up. But, with each passing minute, his anxiety grew. Could he run along? With all those people?...NO
And besides, where could he go? But, when he found himself almost alone, his limbs were paralyzed out of shock.
Finally, he decided to do something. I have to pull myself together, he thought. He began contemplating ways to get out.
By and Large, it was indeed a hellish situation.
The principal was, however, still in the school. It was really reassuring. He advanced towards the school’s office, which was something students generally dreaded. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Indeed, he never felt such love for his parents before.
Just at that time, the principal, Mr. Ravish Ramadoss, was advancing towards the main gate.
Seeing him leave, Harsh grew panicky. But, mad with panic, and driven by desperation, he began to fly towards him, his eyes now red with tears.
Ramadoss saw him coming and he was not bewildered. He had long years to back his stint as a school principal and knew how to deal with kids.
Harsh was now face to face with the man who ran the school. Ramadoss was a fairly young principal of 46-odd years and geniality was his hallmark, as his expression, body and his manners were very well-received by everyone.
At that juncture, Harsh could do little more than cling on to his leg and cry his heart out.
“Don’t cry son. Everything is going to be fine. The weather’s rough, that’s all.” Assured the principal, deeply moved.
“I’m very scared sir, and I want to go home.” Said Harsh.
“But of course. What’s your name?”
“Harsh. Harsh Desai.”
“Why don’t you phone your house? Maybe your parents are waiting for you there?”
“Okay sir.”
Harsh followed his principal inside the school’s office. It was all so different now. He was ready to give back absolutely anything for the normality to prevail once again.
He frantically dialed his house. Ramadoss was standing next to him. The phone was ringing away, but there was no response from the other end. His heartbeat increased – he was going crazy.
“What happened Harsh? No response?”
“No sir.”
Ramadoss now started calling hospitals. No luck. It was clear at least now, that the state was isolated from the rest of the country.
“No answer at all, Son.” he said, giving up.
“What can we do now, sir?” asked an anxious Harsh.
“We just have to wait and watch.”
After an anxious wait of two hours in the school campus, Ramadoss made up his mind to take Harsh home.
“Just make yourself at home, Harsh.” Said Mrs. Ramadoss.
“Thank you aunty.”
Ramadoss’ attempt to trace Harsh’s parents continued after they reached on. He just did not know whom to contact. He had tried everything in his power. He finally gave up and started surfing various news channels on TV.
He was just surfing some news channels agog with the red hot news.There was an insane hype of non-stop excitement. Everything seemed commonplace, until…
Harsh screamed, “Stop it right there, sir!”
“What happened Harsh?” asked Ramadoss.
He did not speak a word. In the deathly silence that prevailed, you could clearly hear the heart banging away against the ribs – out of sorrow and pain. And Ramadoss knew it, even before Harsh said it,
“My parents are…dead.” Harsh pointed towards the TV.
The camera focused on the corpses of his parents, among others killed in the riots.
It is impossible to describe the feelings that were running in everyone’s mind. Ramadoss was stunned and felt brainwashed. His wife was deeply moved, her face moist with tears.
But, the most deeply affected soul, Harsh, stood like a waterfall, with tears flowing continuously. For him, the basic foundations on which he had been raised were crumpled, crushed. The past was now completely irrelevant. He did not know why he was living in such a cruel present. A present, which was so full of hatred, violence and malice. The happy future, which he had looked forward to with great eagerness, was completely gone.
The clock struck 10.
Ramadoss and his wife were too shocked to even console him.
“Harsh, I cannot tell you how sorry I am for this.” Ramadoss said.
“I…”
“Don’t say anything Harsh.”
But what Harsh DID after that life-changing incident was incredible.
He decided not to lose heart. He studied hard. He stayed with his maternal grandparents in Mhow, M.P, but continued to come to Indore for his studies.
In the years that followed, Harsh showed that he had a strong sense of duty and a lot of courage. He was topping studies, sports,...even life.
His success story in Medical school continued in all those grueling five years. He became an unmatched student, a good friend and a promising doctor. There was no looking back.
It was not difficult to understand the impetus behind his brain. His tragedy simply motivated him to greater, untouched heights. But even SKY was NOT the limit...for Harsh Desai.
That’s how one day, Dr. Harsh Desai, M.D (neurology), FRCS, took his grandparents with him to Christchurch, New Zealand. He maintained contact with Ramadoss, the man who was there with him every minute.
He had everything he could wish for...except mental peace.
Those 20 hard years were apparently there to stay.
“Think about something else at times, dear Harsh” said his grandmother.
“I have lots and lots of work to do.” He would say.
Apart from working in a routine hospital, Harsh was insistent on doing something he wanted to do all the while – to infuse some sense into people.
Harsh always felt that he had a job to do. A job that was left unfulfilled, unattended.
Life taught him tough things in tough ways. But, the willingness to succeed, complete abstenance from the mere temptation of going astray and most of all – finding a reason to live – these were the reasons that made him really, really special.
He was getting restless by the minute. But India, as he saw it, was getting restless and shaky with each passing second. There were riots and chaotic situations almost everyday, and nothing could be done about it. Whenever he would think of all this, he would cringe with sorrow and feel sick in his stomach. And to add to all this misery, he was miles away from home.
But one day, he made up his mind. He decided to go to Gujarat with his grandparents to be with his relatives for at least a month. Even otherwise, his cousin was engaged to be married later that month.
For Harsh, it was a task to be done as soon as possible. And now, he was getting a golden opportunity to do it. He simple could not let go of it.
News of the infamous Babri Masjid (mosque) had spread all over the world and to Harsh, it was just another blow. They had been independent for 57 years and yet, they were just completely torn apart in strife.
This is just not on, He thought. It’s time to put an end – to it all.
Reaching India, Harsh saw his cousin – the young petite girl engaged to get married. She was nonplussed to see him and so was he. Years of staying far, far away had taken their toll on memories.
The implication of the Hindu-Muslim riots was very, very evident. They were apparently here to stay for ever. Certain areas in parts of the state were completely sealed off for both the communities. So, Harsh thought, Secular India??? No way!
He had decided one thing - he could not let that same misfortune happen to someone else – ever again.
With a heavy heart, he went up to his room and after hours of saddened and forceful deliberation, he lulled himself to sleep…
Two O’clock. Gujarat was sleeping peacefully. Suddenly, the dreaded happened.
There were clashes everywhere. Shops were burning, Buses were being burnt up, people were bashed up like wild cattle and dead bodies were laying strewn helter-skelter. For a moment, Harsh was taken back in time – 20 years ago – when he first saw this hell happening right in front of him. For all this madness, he could choose hell a dozen times over.
But he made up his mind soon enough. This was a chance he did not want to lose. He had thought enough, read enough and cursed everyone enough. It was now time to act.
So, covering himself with a shawl, he walked down the hellish road of death.
He was walking. Every step he took was laced with determination. Indeed, he was on a mission – and no one could stop him.
He looked for a good vantage point. He saw a raised platform. He grabbed it. From there, he had a good look – at the terrible scenes of death and destruction everywhere. And his voice clearly was betraying his anger and sorrow – STOP THIS RIGHT NOW.
Gradually all eyes were turned to the one man standing at the platform with defined anger written everywhere on his red face. Everyone stopped in their tracks, out of sheer admiration for his extraordinary courage.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Aren’t 57 years of slavery enough for you? Savage, uncivilized creatures! Have some sense of chivalry.”
There was an ominous silence.
The people were shaken out of their paralyzed mind, when they heard Harsh speak his heart out. They stopped in their tracks and thought over their dangerous foolishness.
But anything could be done, there was a gunshot that tore through the deadly silence. Harsh’s face was a paroxysm of pain and hatred.
Two more gunshots. Harsh was dead a few seconds later.
Even today, we see riots happening for no reason at all. And there cannot really be a reason for wanton and discriminatory violence. There have been enough Harsh Desais...
But ask yourself – have we betrayed their sacrifice? |
|
|
| |
|
|
|
Home | Contest | Write A Book | Write Ebooks For Cash | Be A Travel Writer | Write Children's Books
Write For Newspapers |
Write An Ezine | Write A Blog | Writing Skills & Tips | Novel Writing Software
|
