With no malice to the government or any party and especially with utmost humility towards the troll brigades, I sit pondering at the bank of the pond. Times are wrong, and I have no work. If I sell, I do not get my money and to buy I’ve no money. I’m not an economist, neither intelligent enough to distinguish between Einstein and Newton or differentiate between an apple and an orange.
The croak of the frog disturbs my yogic meditative composure as I fight to open my eyes. The frog seems to be sad, almost crying. It seems to be conversing trying to say something to me. “They forcibly snatched my wife away from me,” it whispered, weeping.
“I was a Dalit frog.” “Wait, Wait. Do you also have caste equations in the animal kingdom?” shockingly I ask. “Sir, we all belong to this nation. She who I was secretly dating was from a Rajput clan. There was no rain in the lands, parched and singed and we were left in the lurch.”
The Pandit came, staring at us and warned with a “Shhhh, you will not disclose your castes, and I must conduct your wedding.” “We were thrilled, and the wedding took place just the other week. It was well covered in the media, and many TV crews were present. Motormouth anchors of the TV too were numbed by our marriage, as the Pandit predicted that rains would come, heavy and soon.”
“Heavy rains, indeed, it was, but the Pandit’s house was washed away by the fury of the floods as my trembling wife, and I took shelter on a mound. The Pandit was furious, not at the rain but the loss of his properties and swore to teach us a lesson, for a sin we did not commit.”
“An angry crowd had gathered around us, with menacing lathis and long towels. Your marriage has been the reason for the anger of the gods, who you have provoked. You concealed the information that you were a Dalit,” the headman roared. “I meekly replied, “your lands were cracked, farms destroyed, animals died and wells in disuse. Look at what my marriage has done. Changed all these and drove away from your travails.”
They would have none of this. Another ceremony was soon held, this time to forcibly separate my wife, who was pregnant with my progeny, and me. An elaborate function, a yagna, invoking gods with fire was held, and they cut the sacred threads on our legs that ended us, as man and wife. It is all over. Someone took her in his bag to leave her in the farthest lands.”
“Don’t worry; she will be safe, wherever she is,” I try to console. “But sir, I am scared if they gangrape her,” the frog started sobbing. “The men don’t leave goat and dogs, and it is only a matter of time they do it to a pretty lady like her.”
I extended my palm, over which the frog came and sat down, his eyes still wet. I start my journey in search of his missing wife. I’ve got a job, without any remuneration, but must hurry before something should happen to the pregnant frog.
As I walk I see our cryogenic rocket zooming towards moon.
Jai Hind.
Sampath Kumar
Intrépide Voix
