Utopia page 45: Three stars to separate thought processes

RAINGODS

There was no hip-hop. Instead, there were raindrops. A case of culpable homicide was registered under section 302 of the Indian Penal Code. The Mudulis were led away by the police.

*****
They partied hard. It was a wild, wild party. Wild boars, wild geese and wild elephants…they were all there.
Padlam Muduli had been allowed by the upper class Rajgurus to install an idol of ‘the rain god’ in the local temple earlier reserved only for the upper classes.
It was a party so extravagant that witnesses claimed it could be seen from the skies.
The Mudulis, the Tudus and wild boars were among the 200 VIP guests of honor at the grand installation of ‘Pani Devta’ at the local temple.
There were performers as well-the local peacocks performed the ‘rain dance’; the local swans the ‘sun dance’ and the wild boars the ‘appetite dance’ (they were too good in filling every one’s appetite!)…
Each one did his bit before being lynched. They (the locals) were having a grand feast.
Then there was a fireworks display, masterminded by the pyrotechnicians behind the opening ceremony of the previous year’s ‘International Conference on Food Security’ that was held in Bhubaneshwar, the capital of Orissa.
In a part of the world synonymous with wealth (or, lack of it) and excess, the installation was being dubbed “the party to end all parties”.
*****

It had once again been a dry year. Bhigu Muduli’s family had gone without food for days. The youngest child, their five-year son was on the brink of starvation.

Bhigu Muduli’s mother, an octogenarian, had just undergone a Cataract operation. She was also hard of hearing. His father was spewing blood. The doctor’s report said Tuberculosis.
They got him admitted to the local Government hospital. There were no doctors and medicines were scarce.
Ramu Muduli started throwing up blood. He was unable to digest food. Finally, he was transferred to a ‘bed’, which was a rug on the floor. It seemed there was no place for an old man.
After battling disease and consequent weakness and 16 days in the Government hospital with scant attention, inefficient ‘quacks’ (doctors’ negligence) and an apathetic system with inadequate infrastructure, Ramu Muduli lost his life. And the family went into mourning.
*****
Meanwhile, Bhigu Muduli’s youngest son, the late Ramu Muduli’s grandson, had developed diarrhea-like symptoms. He had also turned pale. The family had no knowledge of Oral Rehydration Therapy and ORS. The local quack said this could be attributed to the wrath of the Gods.
(Incidentally, Bhigu Muduli had committed incest. He was sleeping with his daughter)
Little Arsh Muduli’s condition worsened by the day. As they saw eruptions on his skin, the family grew worried that this was really the wrath of the Gods. So, one day, the family poisoned the child.
*****
It rained like never before. The root-cause of the problem was now gone. For ever.
Little Arsh Muduli had begun to question the system. He was studying in a school with a computer to which he had to walk one mile to reach.
Had he lived, he would have grown into the most knowledgeable and the most discerning man in the village.
The upper classes were not quite fond of him. It was a relief to them that he had been poisoned. They were now ready to co-operate with the lower classes. It took the sacrifice of one innocent boy for the class-barrier to be broken.
On that auspicious day, when the rain gods smiled (it had taken the sacrifice of an innocent boy to appease the rain gods) Bhigu Muduli, Padlam Muduli and their friends celebrated by installing the idol. It was after all a Red Letter Day in the History of Kalahandi.

COMPROOTER
(A STORY OF HOW AN EDUCATED LADY FILED A LAWSUIT AGAINST A MIGHTY CORPORATION)

One day Reena didi went missing. Her body was found in a canal…

*****
They were talking about IT in schools. They were talking about taking IT to the villages. And now they were talking about something special-a special computer, a ‘Comprooter’…
To the innocent villagers of Pahargaon, the Comprooter represented the birth of a new revolution. Bhigu Chamar was ecstatic. Now his children could study computers in school. Ram Palit was confident the village schools would now each have a computer. Asha Rani, the wife of the local sweet maker, Ramu Halwai blushed every time she was asked about the ‘comp rooter’…
There was one person, however, who was not so sure…
The villagers respectfully referred to her as ‘Didi’. She was Ms. Reena Bagchee, a Social worker who had tirelessly worked for the welfare of Pahargaon, a village located in Tirkit constituency of Bihar, 54 miles from the capital, Patna.
She had the knowledge. And she had the brains. And she was concerned. The problem was: she did not have what it took for a respectable sensitized young lady to live there. The connections.
*****
They called in technicians to check the circuit.
One more child gone. For ever. This time again while playing with the Comprooter…
A village was now mourning its children. Thanks to technology…that promised more to give than to take…
It was not clear though what the problem was, but it could have been the intense radiation from the screens that the technicians had perhaps not paid attention to…
It was probably the connections: anyone who touched the machine would be electrocuted. And it was more obvious that since a larger percentage of users were children, many children were losing their lives.
But these were innocent villagers who had never read a word in their lives. Then, who would speak up?
*****
Power politics ruled the constituency. The villagers lived in constant fear of their masters. It was as if they were slaves. The corporation building (that manufactured the Comprooter) stood on illegal land (actually an encroachment) and the corporation itself was run by a donation from the Chief Minister’s Fund. The Chief Minister made sure that the corporation was able to force the Comprooter down the villagers’ throats at throwaway prices and promising to give rather than to take…
*****
Ms. Bagchee would have none of this crap. She decided to consult a lawyer but was warned that the repercussions of such action could be extremely adverse. But Reena didi was a woman of conscience. She went ahead and filed a lawsuit against Digital Electronix Pvt Limited, the corporation which manufactured the Comprooter…
That evening, her last, Ms. Reena Bagchee, the silent voice in a multitude of sufferers, was abducted on her way home and stabbed in the belly nineteen times. Her body was then thrown into a canal.
*****
It is often wisely said that women and men of conscience should sometimes not protest or they would meet the same fate that…

NEPAL HONEYMOON

Mention the word ‘Honeymoon’ and most people would be up on their toes! For the term would often conjure up images of intimacy, romance and exotic locations. Your honeymoon is that special moment you’ve been waiting for. For most newly-weds, just being in a position to “coil up” with their partners, their special someone, would represent to them the most tender experience one could ever envisage.

And for that special, tender experience you would need a most special location! A “NEPAL HONEYMOON”! I know of newly-wed couples who went to Nepal for their honeymoons and left saying they would have loved to get married in Nepal! This is a country of terrific scenic beauty, with flora and fauna; farm terraces on the hillside; rivers; springs and waterfalls and off course the mountains. A ‘Nepal Honeymoon’ could be every honeymooner’s paradise!
Kick start your vacation with the Federal capital, Kathmandu! This is a cosmopolitan city where you can find everything from lively eating joints to busy shopping malls to casinos! There are very affordable regular flights between New Delhi and Tribhuvan International Airport, Kathmandu. One can also choose to fly from either Mumbai or Kolkata but the flights out of Delhi are perhaps the most affordable.
In Nepal, do spend time in Patan, rich in culture; Bhaktapur, the city of devotees; Pokhra, with its exotic lake; Chitwan, where you can opt for either nature or luxury; Tansen and Gorkha, with their gorgeous views of the Himalayas; and Lumbini, the birth-place of the Buddha. This tiny landlocked country has something to offer every honeymoon traveler.
In Nepal, you would hear the bells tinkling; in Nepal you would hear the chanters mumbling; in Nepal you would see the incense smoke; and in Nepal you would see strong nimble footed porters carrying loads well past their own weight. A ‘Nepal Honeymoon’ must incorporate every bit of Nepal.
Autumn (late September-November) and spring (February-April) are the best seasons to see Nepal. The best time to trek is between October and May, when there’s stable weather. The rainy season must be avoided. Nepal is a unique destination for honeymooners because of its incomparable combination of natural beauty and cultural heritage. And the most appropriate way to experience it is walk through this paradise.
If you are dreaming of a ‘Nepal Honeymoon’, fasten your seatbelts! The Himalayan paradise is the ultimate destination!!!
*****
Sarita was extremely elated when she received an SMS from hubby Manish. Two days post marriage Manish was packed off to Los Angeles, due to acute pressure of business. The SMS read as follows “Darling, I am coming to India on the 16^th October for a day & next day we proceed to Nepal for our honeymoon. With the exception of a day (which I shall devote to business), the rest of the time I shall spend with you. Everything being arranged from here. Bye. Take care. Manish.” This mail came three months following marriage.
Sarita immediately started browsing through the internet to get a first hand feel of Nepal. After all, Nepal was something that had always been on their minds & that too for a honey moon. “Nepal is a unique destination for trekking because of its unbeatable combination of natural beauty and cultural riches. And the most appropriate way to experience it is walk through them...” But Sarita decided not to walk since this was the first time she could spend good time with Manish besides she didn’t know when he would be back. The SMS did not say a single line. There was also no response received against several messages sent.
*****
The day finally arrived when Manish reached in the early hours. Their flight to Kathmandu was scheduled for late in the evening. As passengers fastened their seat belts, the flight took off and in no time landed on the dream land. A drive to the 5 star Hyatt Regency at Tara Gaon, Boudha seemed to pass off in minutes. The check in, the room service, the beautiful breath taking view, the outdoor pool, the wading pool, the Jacuzzi, the tennis courts, the jogging track, the saunas, the Ayurvedic massage, the health, the beauty spa, the fitness center, the walk-in closet, the mini-bar, the Internet access, nothing interested Sarita (Delhi had most or all of these) except Manish and wanted every minute out of him.
Into the early hours, they talked & talked, spoke of Los Angeles, life in the USA but Sarita found all of this was monologue. It was she who was garrulous and doing all the speaking with only a smattering of ya/yes/nice from Manish. Could be after effects of “jet lag”, Sarita thought. After all, her hubby was a businessman from the US and she was his wife and they had come for their honeymoon to Nepal.

Next morning…

There was a knock at the door. Manish was sleeping, and Sarita cursed the knocker, thinking why on earth someone would create a knock on the door at this early hour. Manish was still sleeping like a hog.
Sarita sleepily got up (her eyes were a sleepy red), and wrapping up her body in a night gown, stealthily opened the door knob.
The world below her feet was instantly swept away as in a tsunami. There were not one, but three armed cops at the door. One of them asked in broken English “Is Manish Malhotra inside?”
“Yes, Sarita replied.”
“We have come to arrest him.”
“What???”
“Ma’m, we have come on our duty. Look at this warrant on his name from Interpol. He is thereby arrested & shall be deported to Istanbul via New Delhi tomorrow for trial.”
“It cannot be” shouted Sarita. “You must be mistaken. He is my husband and has a business in the US. We have come to Nepal for our Honeymoon…”
*****
Sarita did not remember what all she said.
Rest she did not remember. She understood that Manish was an international drug peddler and had come for selling heroin worth Crores. Interpol had been closely following up Manish for the last six months.
*****
Manish was woken up and given 5 minutes to get ready. Armed cops waited out side the room to put handcuffs on him without disturbing the privacy of the honeymooners.
Manish gave a “good bye” look at the innocent eyes of Sarita. Probably they would never meet. Drug peddling means death penalty. Sarita’s NEPAL HONEYMOON dream was shattered.
She committed suicide in the same hotel that morning after scribbling the events on a page. This page had blood strains. This manuscript was in the hands of the police.
No one knows what happened thereafter.
*****
The walls of the 5 star Hyatt Regency remain a mute spectator to the events that happened in NEPAL HONEYMOON. It is said that guests still hear the pains inflicted on a young woman, on 17^th Oct every year, budding with life, dilapidated to shambles within hours of checking into the hotel.

TRINA

“…I grew up watching the stars in the beautiful night sky (my ‘mutants & Cyborgs’ and ‘E.T.’) – I wanted my country in space…”

“…I dreamt of Sister Nivedita (my Alice Paul) – I cut my hair short…the villagers of Gualpara were shocked!”
“I saw beautiful mountains, rivers, & birds & the sun shining on Gualpara, I started dreaming of Dr. Jane Goodall who once remarked, "To achieve global peace, we must not only stop fighting each other but also stop destroying the natural world.”
“I saw lovely children playing in the pool (my ‘world fit for children’) and I dreamt of progress for my innocent peoples…!”
“This is my moment! My moment of triumph! The moment I’ve been waiting for since the day I was born…my moment!”
*****
I have lived a life of silence…but I can hear the mountains & the rivers & the beautiful birds…
*****
I live an extremely painful life. I have always lived one. Everyone understands my pain, but no one does! I long to sing my music all over again, but I’m breathless at the sound of the local bard (the Baul)! I cannot move my feet. For the same reason, I cannot lift up the saxophone that has been lying outside the doorway leading to our grand mansion in Gualpara, situated in Birbhum district of West Bengal. One look at my ailing (terminally ill) younger brother, another at the sheer inability of my Civil Servant father and his fleet of doctors to cure him…and I have always felt so seriously helpless and melancholic…but I believe in Ma Durga, for some Kali…
I have been on therapy myself for years…they are always doing very painful things to me, things I do not understand. The extent of pain God has given me is beyond my remotest comprehension…
I was not born into tremendous pain and suffering…but into a very rich family. We were two sisters and a brother. Now we are a brother and a sister. A strange disease took away my younger sister. Now she is gone for ever…
Cataract took away my grandmother’s eyes. I lost my mother when I was twelve. My father has been posted in Gualpara as part of the West Bengal Civil Service. Losing my mother and his daughter, my brother’s terminal illness and my own disability have led to my father’s failing health.
India is part of the developing world. I am now educated and discerning enough to realize that the developing world is really very poor!
Terminal illness and physical disability have besieged the developing world. To many people in the developing world, people like my helpless father, there is no way out of difficult circumstances. Medical science is yet to find a cure for either terminal illness or disability, and a large percentage of those affected are the poor…Earnings of less than a dollar a day, ten mouths to feed and no food to put on the table…and malnourished pregnant & lactating mothers. It is hardly surprising there should be an inevitable scourge of hunger, disease and ignorance in the developing world…
We’re waiting for light in our lives!
*****
It’s cold outside.
As cold winds blow
Trina is escorted around the village by her attendant-governess in the wee hours of dawn…
Trina is wheelchair-bound!
The village is yet to wake up to life! As morning birds chirp! The local country bard (Baul) sings on his harp!
(Trina is confined to the wheelchair as a result of a physical disability)
She halts by “Azadi Bhoomi” (the ground of free martyrs) by the riverside…
She finally stops at the “Samadhi” to offer her prayers to her once deceased friends, nee children of the village, whom hunger had taken away...
She is in tears, lost in thought by the riverside!

(“…and the whole world seems to be crying…”)

*****
“It’s daytime!”
In Gualpara…
Locals go about morning chores; mundane daily village activities…
Trina watches as children bathe, laugh, play with water, birds chirp and the local bard sings & travels with his harp.
“It’s all…celebrating the power of the human spirit to battle for survival…”
“…the power of the species…”
*****
As night subsides…
Once again, it’s dawn and a new day!
A “Global Summit on Children” is taking place!
Trina sees beautiful swans inside the venue, also fish inside the same waters of the venue’s fountain pond!
Suddenly, someone hurls a pebble into the fish pond…
*****
A group of curious onlookers (largely children) gathers outside the gate(s)! Trina sees these children being denied entry inside. She is told visitor’s passes are required for entry. The summit organizers do not hesitate to be rude to some of the more boisterous children outside the gates-
There is some commotion outside & a flurry of activity inside.
Trina’s gaze (and the children get diverted!) shifts to
A sleek, black/red/white car arriving, a man with stylish feet alights from the sleek car! Trina sees a few of the Western delegates followed by the delegates from Africa, the Pacific then South Asia including the venue country, India, and finally the British High Commissioner followed by the Ambassadors of Japan & the United States arriving in the same fashion.
(These men and women are all impeccably dressed, the men in expensive formal jackets & the women in expensive formal skirt-suits and expensive footgear, Prada, Armani et al!)
“…talk of the cream you choose to apply on the face for glowing, resilient skin…talk of all that Armani & Peter England…”
While the “Heavily-Indebted Poor Country Initiatives” are forced into remote with low-paid professionals’ Cataract camps!
*****
To the children, it seems unthinkable that no one around seems to be speaking their language, only English while these children have been out of school ever since they were seven/eight/nine/ten respectively. Some of them work in hazardous occupations or as manual scavengers or as rag-pickers or in the fields (these are the children of farmers) while others have fled the rigors of rural life to the attractions of the city!
Little do they know! Little do they understand what the summit is all about!
*****
They are all waving in the air! The arriving delegates dressed in all their finesse (expensive formal jackets & expensive formal footwear) seem to be oblivious to the needs for attention of the children outside the gates!
They have come for an important event. Which is to attend the “Global Summit on Children” as formal representatives of world governments, industry, private foundations & civil society…Trina wonders whether these important people actually represent the target population at all?
*****
One of the children asks for a lift from the private chauffeur of one of the delegates who refuses or is unable to communicate…refused and disgruntled, the child hurls a pebble at the sleek car that was actually coming into the premises for parking. As some of the delegates protest, there is some tension with the locals, settled amicably and non-violently (without police help!) at the intervention of the wheelchair-bound Trina, who happens to be on the organizational committee and who is able to fluently translate between the two warring parties…!
Trina is the “Bridge Over Troubled Water” …
The gates are then closed.
*****
The delegates are now in session.
There is a pre-session AIDS charity breakfast; and Africa goes on, so do South Asia, Favelas South America; Eastern Europe & Western homelessness & ghettos!)
This is followed by the announcement of the plenary, afternoon and evening sessions. A morning break, an afternoon lunch and the evening tea are also formally announced.
Delegate one (Chair) makes his opening remarks. There is a thunderous applause!
Delegate two (student): reads out his paper.
“One more child of Millennium Development Goals Africa is now in the grave, being buried by his family members…calling it ‘camps & refugees and food on the tables; Child Conscription, of 21^st century splendor and war; Angels in America & (Suffragette) Alice Paul ‘Iron-Jawed Angels’, of inmates & death rows; Rwandan genocides; Milosevic war crimes & Abu Ghraib crimes against humanity; it is our marathon, we ought run…”
“While Africans have run out of food,
The rest of the world has run out of love…narcotics & carjackers & high-octane nightlife & Philadelphia AIDS…
(It would seem) not a single Dollar changes hands without authorization…
(It would also seem) the death of a child is grave offence and amounts to investigation…in courageous Africa…where children often chase trucks of Westerners and presumably, goodies! As well!”
“And now Asia! What do you know about Cambodia? Civil War & the Khmer Rouge & Measles/Pneumonia & no vaccines, no prosthetics, corruption & landmines (mine fields) & Angkor Vat…
I wish something could be done against the landmine…
What is all this ‘Politics of Boxes’ (artificial limbs) meant for women and children in war-torn (Khmer Rouge) Cambodia (vs. Moulin Rouge France?)…
Chechnya, Somalia, Cambodia, Ethiopia, it’s the same thing all the time – what kind of (a) (life) lives is the developing world leading?
These are then…the issues of the day! Food! Mines! And emaciated child corpses! Being buried in rich African sands by their poor (birth) fathers…!
And Chechnya is a dangerous place!
Aid workers disappear mysteriously…and a child loses his mother in the bargain…
It’s a Coke Anorexia Diet Coke Diet Pepsi & extravagant cuisine developed world vs. developing world Food Stamps and Stampedes…
Unfortunately, closed minds & funding shortfalls add to an already existing global dilemma!
These are the over 50 million refugees and displaced persons and asylum seekers of a skewed 21^st century progress graph…!
We ought to act now on the true realization of our goals for children…!
Thank you so much!”
There is a thunderous applause!
Delegate three (from East Africa): reads out his Country Report. There is a discussion on the Millennium Development Goals; as well as extensive discussions on how each country is faring vis-à-vis the overall Global Development Indicators. There is another thunderous applause!
The delegate from Germany reads out the report of a private German foundation, followed by another thunderous applause!
The delegate from France reads out the report of a French firm manufacturing anti-aircraft guns!
The delegate from Sub-Saharan Africa presents his report on the plight of child soldiers & the crisis in Darfur. Delegates remain silent!
The delegate from Oceania presents a report on the plight of indigenous peoples in Australia, New Zealand, and Papua New Guinea & Fiji in the wake of globalization! Delegates take special notice!
The delegate from the Philippines suggests the creation of a Tsunami Fund! There is a thunderous applause!
The delegate from South Asia reads out a report on the poignant plight of refugees & the condition of refugee camps. There is silence!
The delegate from the Netherlands desperately tries to initiate discussion on renewable energy! Trina hears loud whispers from among the delegate body!
The delegate from the United Kingdom tries to divert attention to the Sinn Fein & the peace process in Northern Ireland! The whispers die down!
The delegate from the United States of America starts off with 9/11, the war on terror & weapons of mass destruction!
Trina watches the complete lack of consensus at the summit! Each one seems to be speaking his own mind! Where every one thinks every one else is out of his/her mind!
Then a relief worker starts off: “Since when did the rich nations start thinking about the starving in Africa, ask me, I’m an English doctor based in Ethiopia,” he says, introducing himself… “Africa for you means something glamorous, but Africa for me means three years of no rain, not a drop, & war camps, disease, Measles, Typhoid, Kala-azar, Yellow Fever, Hay Fever, locusts, HIV/AIDS & debt. Have you ever had a live experience of famine-relief…? ‘Full bag? I take one truck (of food)…’ ‘Celebrating the Politics of food in starving Ethiopia! While the rest of the world celebrates AIDS charity (nee Sotheby’s & Christie’s!) with bottles of wine! And plates of dine!!”
“I guess it takes oceans! Of courage & will to survive… in the face of war and persecution…!”
“There seems to be a gender bias! No female delegate has spoken…”
The gender barrier is soon a thing of the past! Delegates give a standing ovation as one lone woman speaks…!
Trina!
She delivers the Valedictory that has been thrown open to the committee (on reforms)…!
She cites that some nations have actually refrained from attending the summit without assigning any concrete reasons!
Later on, the delegates enjoy the Official Silver Room banquet lunch; a lavish spread of the most exotic dishes courtesy the local 7-star Chef and his team!
(There is a starter in each; followed by a course and finally dessert…some of the most exotic dishes have been included though not restricted to
Lamb Goulash served in Wine; the Chef’s Personal Vegetarian Fried Rice; Hyderabadi Biryani (a rice preparation); Paneer Pasanda (a cottage cheese preparation); Chicken shreds in Tartar sauce; Chicken legs in White sauce; Fish in Capsicum; the Chef’s Personal Broccoli salad; Mayonnaise Special; Special apple salad & the Chef’s Personal Fruity-salad Cappuccino…!)
*****
Somewhere, sounds of deep wailing are emanating from outside the venue auditorium…
They can trace the sounds to the interior of Gualpara, situated in the environs of the official venue to the Global Summit (on Children!) –
A group of international delegates (region-specific, like South Asia & Sub-Saharan Africa) gathered at the venue of a global conference; are stunned as the wails coming from a poor family that has lost its youngest son to hunger in a remote tribal village close to the venue grow louder and stronger.
The wails grow even louder…
The delegates, confused, panic- the delegates from Chad and Bangladesh suggest that they should all try and trace the origin of the wails…after a few heated deliberations, everyone voices concern and a unanimous decision is now taken to try and trace the wails …
*****
Their journey takes them to a nearby remote hamlet where a poor farmer has just lost his third son to malnutrition while the youngest son cries in need of hunger-specific respiratory therapy. Conference delegates are shocked at this turn of events.
Instead of coming to the aid of the hapless family, the delegates start indulging in heated discussions on each one’s region-specific problems, oblivious to the pain & suffering that the bereaved farmer family is going through…while they struggle to keep their youngest son alive…
As they take the son for cremation, one of the locals hurls a stone at one of the delegates who is hurt and bruised badly…the locals seem to be instigated…
“Once again, Trina intervenes…”
Trina struggles in her wheelchair…out of empathetic pain!
Seeing this true votary of peace (Trina was born in this village, her father was posted in the Civil Service) in tears, this time inside the hamlet, the delegates realize their fault & make every effort to rush the child to hospital who finally survives…following a grueling battle for life and being put on artificial respiration! The delegates from France & Belgium decide to jointly foot the bill! The local villagers are ecstatic and both sides forgive and forget!
*****
Back at the venue, the delegates jointly sign a pledge wherein Trina undertakes to launch a charity devoted exclusively to hunger research…research on the causes, symptoms and treatment of hunger…The offices of the charity are to be located on a need basis with the regions needing them the most each one to be accorded one branch…
Proceeds of the charity are to support one boy and one girl from each region to study and research hunger overseas and to undertake to return to their communities to work as “community volunteers” and to use their education to further the upliftment of their respective communities!
To launch the scheme, one boy from the affected farmer’s family & another boy (there was stiff opposition to a girl!) from the same village are being sponsored to study hunger at the Institute of Development Studies (IDS) at Sussex, Brighton, UK!
“…all this at the behest of Trina…”
Trina herself travels to Alberta, Canada for work related to her charity. “Years have passed…”
*****
“Now in the lifetimes of today’s children…”
Curious village folk, men and women, young and old, abled and disabled, diseased and dying alike are gathered for a village meeting…
As the largely illiterate village folk (unable to follow the language (English)) steps out of their homes, their attention gets diverted to the school for children on the other side-
An emerging middle-aged lady, medium built, of wheatish complexion, who sports an expensive jacket and fancy glasses but who speaks the local language!
The wheelchair bound Trina…

(And they recognize her!)

(As a former savior of her folk and who had years back launched a charity to help her community…through knowledge!)
Meanwhile, a few Westerners (foreigners to the villagers) arrive on the spot. Something is whispered in her ear and they take her away to where a sleek car is waiting for her. The only truly educated person in the village so far, the only ‘hope’ for these illiterate & ignorant villagers is gone for ever…!
*****
Around the same time, a strange flu was spreading across the same village; and the World Health Organization had sounded a red alert!
The bereaved farmer family once again, had lost another of its children to this mysterious illness!
(The son’s body had been brought for cremation by his father)

Family after family was losing its children!

“These were…bereaved families & mass graves…of young deceased sons & daughters…!”
“…as an entire village wept…”
Trina…
Stepped out of a United Nations convoy…
Our heroine, our savior had finally arrived!
This time with a fleet of UN vehicles, paramedical volunteers, an ambulance & emergency food supplies!
The UN had decided to adopt the village…
To the innocent villagers, Trina became a living savior…!
(Among those arriving were a few of those “Global Children’s Summit” delegates whose lives this village and in it one remote hamlet had changed forever…!)
All this became possible…

…because of a young girl called Trina…!

*****
Trina is now over fifty and has arranged for a tutor for her brother. The villagers often refer to Trina as ‘Ma’… Trina’s father passed away the year before. He was suffering from cancer. The UN has adopted Gualpara and it is now an UN-administered colony. Many of the poor villagers are now working in respectable positions across the globe. The efforts of one woman have enabled them lead lives of dignity…