Colors are feast for eyes and fire for soul. They are blessings of nature and source for rapture. God sprinkled color on every part of the Universe: be it earth or sky; be it leaf or reef. God created life out of this universe and painted it with different emotions. But, despite the artistic endeavors of God, there are some aspects of life that still need gallons of colors to look colorful.
I will dwell upon those ‘some’ aspects that still need to be colored.
His parents got charred in the fire that broke out in the slums due to electrical short circuit 6 months ago. Now he is literally on roads, he has been rendered orphan due to that incident. He had wanted to become an army-man and wanted to serve the country, but today he is an almsman. He feels humiliated. He feels rejected. Sometimes, snatching and pick pocketing also flit through his mind. The colors of sanity have deserted him. The prosperity around him makes him frantic and insane. He misses his share of color of prosperity, his share of color of justice that is not there for him. I want his dreams to take flight of colors. I want his life to take flights of colors.
She resides in the backwaters of India and is away from the cries of Reservation for Women in Capital. She was 10 when she became widow and 14 when she was smuggled to one of the metro cities of India. Her father was given the greed that she will get good food, shelter, and education in the city and in turn she will have to do some small domestic works. The shelter she got was of a brothel and in the name of education and food she received abuses. One NGO with the help of city police rescued her and other girls like her. She was deported to her parents safely. But now she lives in incessant fear of the face of cities. Her heart and mind bears scars of that noxious experience -- even today when she is eighteen. Another marriage seems impossible and white Saari seems to have become her skin. I want that Saari to have colors of rainbow. I want her life to have colors of flowers.
He toils hard in his fields to decorate the exorbitant Chinese plates with stark white grains of rice. Right from five star hotels to palatial resorts, everywhere the droplets of a peasant’s sweat is devoured in the form of rice, bread and vegetable, but hardly the squeaky clean plates of these places care about the plight of the farmer who is creator of these marvelous things that douse fire of hunger . It is an irony that the person who colors others’ dream by helping them provide strength for body, dies strength-less and almost in the form of a skeleton. His harvests bring moolah in galore to others but he dies under the burden of unpaid loans and utter penury. I want to see color of opulence in his life, so that he also enjoys his hard work that brings happiness to the lives of millions.
Even after so many years of civilization, we as humans have not been able to give them their due. They born genderless and we become heartless. We call them Eunuchs or Hijras. They become part of our joy and we become part of their derision. They bless us and we make fun of them. Where is the color of respect in our civilization that can give them equal opportunity in a society? After all how long will they keep on suffering for a reason that is entirely not in their control? And after all how long will we keep belittling humanity by being happy in their distress? I want color of equality for them that make the word humanity more complete and full of heart.
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