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The Cry Unheard

The Cry Unheard

3 mins 466 3 mins 466

She was in the nursery, abandoned as a child. A wise man saw the innocence, he gave her a home in the village. She raised herself against all the odds. She was curious to know does she look like mom or dad, but there was no one to tell her prodigy.

Attractive, tall and beautiful she was a young woman, full of energy. She used to raise her arms to dance with winds. Winds of optimism, winds of love that was her home. Unwary of the world, she made her own small world, cheerful of every inch. Her green eyes were one to desire for, so deep and full of love.

She was a favorite of village children, they used to come and play with her. They used to swing on her arms, she used to welcome them with her open arms. She was a cool wave in hot scorching summer always ready to help others. So generous so kind that everyone was a guest to her home.

One fine day the sun was at the peak, no winds and high temperature. A motorbike stopped near her. She wanted to cough out the motorbike smoke but there was no vocal cord. She was dumb by birth. Her attraction made her prey. The guy got down from the motorbike, he started teasing her. He kept playing with her, he was touching her left and right, everywhere. He never stopped going hard on her. Poor she couldn't even shout for the help. After an hour, he went away with that cruel smile. Wind wiped her fallen hair. Wind, her best friend, couldn't even make her smile today. She was stiff, wanted to cry but stood tall. There was no dance with winds today, everything looked stunned to her.

The guy didn't stop with this, he continued this cruel act for the next few days. She cursed god asking what her mistake was, why is she getting punished like this. But the man was merciless, he didn't melt even by her innocence, one day he brought his friends along, they teased her to death, they cut her arms, they plucked her hair. She wanted to cry aloud, she wanted to protest. Brutality didn't stop here even after killing her they kept on axing her head, her body. There were scars on her mutilated body, scars of cruelty, scars which will never heal, scars which were asking, why?

She was a tree and the cruel men are Mankind. Every minute we are doing this brutality with over 5,707 like her. We cut 3 billion trees worldwide every year.

When will this stop? It's a cry always unheard.


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