Charvi Tyagi

Tragedy Inspirational Children

4.1  

Charvi Tyagi

Tragedy Inspirational Children

Political Laborite

Political Laborite

5 mins
346


Women are like bullets and society is a gun that fires them in the direction that they find desirable. Similar is the journey of a beggar who was forced to paint the unlevelled status of poor people. Dirt covered her gorgeous face, curls trying to interfere to help fight her beauty. Brown eyes with fiery features made her stand apart from the entire global nature of poverty. Her entry was tremendous on the day when I saw her. "Why can't you people move your asses fast so that we can pack up a little quicker?" commanded the grace of constructivist. "Sir, there is no need for that, progress reports have been made by higher authorities and there is a specific time frame within which the criterion of work is set upon" called out a gracious voice which could not be held inside the branches of materialistic nature. Filled with dexterity and enchantress, sand flowing to indicate the cyclone of words coming up, she was there standing as high as a tower. Though her dreams were wounded by circumstances, she was rebellious enough to move the authoritatively nurtured structures of people. Naturally, the embedded queen gradually evoked the blazing volcano that was active enough to spill out. He said "Seems like poorly mortals got their leader without any elections, HEY YOU LITTLE PIECE OF WORM, don't forget my power otherwise you and your gang shall rot in this avaricious abbeys." his words personifying career death. Her eyes still not looking down in shame, she rose up genially by climbing up the stairs of education. "Are you not aware of the law which states that excessive domination can lead you to a way of capitalistic isolation, I don't think so because you look like a well-edified brat" her sarcasm putting up a hole in his emotions. He could not bear the pain of being insulted, so he went to the path that he always would.. complain to seniors. What a pity!! People around her categorically divided themselves into divisions of decisions. Some blessed her with their praises while some gave her a word of theirs by warning her. I was standing at a distance looking at the happiness that arose in her eyes upon inculcating humiliating the man. 

I tried to talk to her but my future was waiting for me to knock at its door. It was the first-ever time when I realized that our country will never see darkness until succeeding generations continue to protest and proceed. I returned but the incidents never. 


The very next moment of meets came near when I noticed her putting up the hard work for yet another project. And this time it was not just the mentality that attracted me the most. It was her interaction of ideas with the contractor. "Sir, I think it would be great if we decorate the floor with marbles as it is the occasion of love," she said, thinking her idea would do wonders to that Map Out. The team was pretty much annoyed with her viewpoints as it didn't suit them and so they uttered " I think such unprofessional imps should never turn barriers for the advancement" 

Professionalism was just their fear as they were less experienced and their impression could drain down the pleasantness of the palace. She could not hold back either and whooped out her opinions in the form of implementation, which again threw her out of tutelage that surrounded her mind. 

Finally, she decided to put a full stop to her career in the labor force. She wrote a letter to the political commission and asked for their help in rescuing her from arms of impoverishment. She was provided help, but never in the forms of schemes but tossing her into the river of condemnations. Her faults were linked to two causes.. she was poor and helpless and that she was motivated, educated, and backless. Calculations were critical and critisizements were numerous. 


She was so done with the regular efforts that she tried to put in for her community and herself. Society as a whole was an obstacle in the course of her destination. But there is always a saying 'Drowning man catches at a straw.' The same followed for her. She took hold of politics as a medium of liberating the demon out of the box. Soon she became the welfare minister, an alternative divisional name she assigned herself. There was not a single field without investment. But it was deeply disappointing to see her sink into the swamp of insects. Her efforts were detested by her own party leaders and as expected her demise disclosure spread across the country. She couldn't survive the hurdles of hijacks. But in her course of diplomacy, she provided contented sorrow to people by providing them all the facilities that she was once denied. 

Today, when I recall the first scene of her arose and then arrive at her miserable downfall of death, the phrase that always trickles out of my mouth is 'Where have you reached RAJNI, that was not a good time to go.' Her honey-like speeches stay closed in a diary which now stays missing. Politicians tried to tackle the problem, but it still remains unsolved. Another thought that struck my mind that day was that no matter how hard you try to carry on your life smoothly, barricades never disappear and assumptions never step out. 


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