When the wet soil of the unkempt village turned muddy, it became very slippery and small puddles formed everywhere. The slope of the broken huts had many holes and gaps those which allowed the raindrops and then the gush of rainfall to go inside the breaking houses…
People awaited for the rain to stop and the continuous downpour had started playing havoc. Destroying the fodder of the cattle, the harvested stock too had got wet and had been damaged.
What could they all do? They couldn’t stop or control arrival nor could decide the departure of the showers.
Science has progressed a lot says everyone; the lone farmer never understood what it meant. If anything can’t be in control of ourself,what advancement is it? Since centuries, he has stood there like other farmers praying for the stopping of the rainfall.
Had the government helped him in shifting the harvested stock to a safer place ,it would not have got wet . Does constructing a cemented or pucca warehouse to stock the grains of the whole village a huge task to do, that till today the heaps of gigantic livestock is kept in the open on the mercy of the rain gods. And when it rains suddenly, it is covered by the soiled torn sheets of polythene and tarpaulins which remind of the torn condition of the country.
What a shame! When governments change, much is talked about policies,amendments ,regulations and enquiries,basic few things if done by individuals and their collective effort can change the condition of the country forever.
The smallest unit of administration thus which has been created at the Panchayat level of village doesn’t help nor initiate,or the higher levels do not coordinate to let such changes happen in the society leading to complete failure of the whole system of administration.
But government nowadays is run by politicians, who play politics first and then take a step for the welfare of country and humanity.
Little Sonu was yet to understand all this dirty filth of life and he was making paper boats to let the white boats sail in the puddle. His tiny sails floated and went through small puddles, like a ray of hope in the darkened night of the storm.
Do you have any thought to share on this?
Diary of a mind 