Here is one more story from the many stories I witnessed during my village stay.
All family members of one of our relatives have moved to the nearby city, and hence their large house is locked; the land in front of it and several cows they keep, all are being taken care by a laborer family who lives adjacent to their house. These laborer families are divided between our families and such master-servant relationship has been going on for several generations, and hence there is a mutual trust not seen at other places. Since their masters do not live in the village anymore, this particular laborer family has been taking good 'advantage' of the opportunity, and everyone knows that they enjoy portion of cows' milk and portion of grains and other resources, to the extent they want, apart from a monthly salary they get. Their master is aware of it but do not mind since this family is their ears and eyes in the village.
I noticed a young boy who is son of the worker family. This boy was small a few years ago and now he was about 12-15. He drives tractor and operates other agriculture equipment which his master's family owns, and at times rents to other villagers. He also has a motorcycle and often goes to places on his motorcycle whenever needed. One fine day, while this boy was riding his motorcycle, sun was shining on his face, and I noticed that he had fair complexion. He was tall, slender and fair - and I noticed he was looking like a boy from a rather rich family, not of laborers. I remembered that even his father was fair, but he looked like a laborer. I was highly impressed with the boy and a thought came in my mind that if this boy was not born in a poor family, he could be like 'Prince' they show in movies and stories.
After a gap of time, one day, bad news came. We came to know that this boy was beaten up black and blue by the Police. He was coming home from somewhere on his motorcycle, and a Police Jeep was behind him. He did not give way to the Police car and hence the Policemen overtook and stopped him, picked him up and took to the police station where they beat him up with sticks and belts. His flesh and skin were damaged, and he had red rashes all over his body. He came back to his home and ever since he stayed at home to recover.
When people come across atrocities, they go to the Police for help. But when the Police itself becomes an oppressor, where can people go? This boy was from a poor family, and he did not tell anyone about this incident. Few people came to know and hence we also got to know about it. I felt too bad for the boy. In a few days, I saw the boy at the house of our relative; he had brown rashes all over his face and body.
Young folks recover fast and hence when I visited after a gap, the boy was back to his former self. Well almost. Now, when I look at his face, even if sun is shining again, his face does not appear fair like before. Almost as if his body got a dent along with his spirit. His face is not cheerful as before, his skin looks maligned and not fair, and he does not even look as tall as before but appears a bit shrunken in size. I don't get the feeling of "Prince" anymore for him. And this transformation is double jeopardy.
Even now I watch him riding his motorcycle, but whenever I see him, I get a sinking feeling inside, feeling sad for him, remembering his suffering in silence. I lost my imaginary Prince Charming.
- Rahul
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