The Famine

It had not rained for 3 consecutive years.

Acute scarcity of water led to human and animal miseries, cracks had developed on dry parched lands, crops dried up all across the barns, and cattle were left with no fodder. Humans and cattle loitered starved and looked up above the sky for a drop of rain instead their eyes burned from the scorching heat of the sun but no black clouds were in vision.

The scarcity of drinking water, food & fodder led to starvation, well, and rivers and ponds dried up. The trees which once gave shade seemed to be dead and burnt without leaves. The drought had begun and famine was declared.

The plight of people in those regions was hard to imagine. The worst affected by droughts were the marginal farmers. Landless labourers and other people from an economically backward section of the society. Tribals who depended on forest produce for their livelihood also suffered a lot during the time of the drought.

Warehouses and cold storage were closed for common people. Humans and cattle started dying of starvation, malnutrition and water shortage.

It was a horrifying moment. The dried-up lands held corpses of impacted cattle, and people fought amongst themselves to bloodshed for food and water. They died starving outside the warehouse when their throat dried and stomachs gave way to mournful laments.

In those days the Zamindars ruled over the regions. They had good provisions of food and adequate water. The most affected were the lower-income based people.

Unable to predict when the famine would end families started to move to other unaffected villages on foot leaving behind their ancestral homes. Farmers who could not bear the miseries of their household joined the jute and sugar mills at low wages and huge work to get a day's meal, at least they could survive. The villages were almost vacant except for a few who still imagined that rains would bring good luck for them. They were indebted to the zamindars, few sold their household utensils, others sold their grains, still, others sold their cattle.

When they were in debt till neck at high interest and could not return the amount either they were made to do menial jobs for the zamindars or beaten up to death or forcefully the zamindars' men snatched their piece of land. Few committed suicide and few who were left died of excess torture. The zamindars did not only stop here their cruelness erupted like a gluttonous wolf towards the wives and daughters of these poor farmers.

The village of Kashipur was one amongst them to be affected. It was almost vacant except for a few villagers on the outskirts.

Khasia had tried surviving with his family, sometimes borrowing an amount from the Zamindar of the village-Ratanlal, sometimes selling his wife's ornaments or utensils.

For the last 3 days, they had no rice to boil for food, the zamindar had rejected for any loan instead he had asked for the 2 bighas of land that Khasia had to clear off his initial debts.

Ratanlal's men had threatened Khasia for quite some time to clear off the debts. How could he clear the debts, how would he leave the ancestral property, how would he survive with his family of five...thoughts haunted him, he was seated on the porch underneath the big peepal tree which was once flourishing, when he heard his eldest daughter calling him, "What's the matter" he asked. His daughter who turned 15 slowly said "Maa is calling for you inside." she turned around and vanished inside the hut. Khasia had been staring at his daughter...she was 15 and was supposed to be married. Whatever was earned for marriage went into survival during the famine. They hardly earned a day's meal leave alone the marriage. He had one more younger daughter to be married off and a son who was the second child. They had been feeding on the husk for 3 days.

Inside the kitchen, the empty crockery crocked against each other without water and grains. They did not even have any husk to eat. What would they feed the children, his wife Champa sat with her hand against her forehead, the body had slimed and had gone dry and dark due to immense fasting and malnutrition, and tears rolled down her pale face.

The pleading eyes exposed the pains, tensions and despair they had been through these years.

"Khasia,o Khasia..." a coarse voice called out from outside their hut. Khasia wiped his tears which had fallen without his notice and went outside, after a few seconds his wife heard loud voices, threats and profanity from the person who was calling Khasia....she quickly went outside hiding behind the doors peeped out...the Zamindar's men had come with the order from him. The debts along with the interests had risen and he wants his money back in 2 days or else they would forcefully take Khasia's house and the land.

Khasia stood folding his hands pleading with them for more time, his 3 children who were playing beside the hut were fear-stricken. They literally tried grabbing his collar to threaten Khasia.

Champa tried pleading and begging them for some time...the men went away though with a warning to come back.

That day Champa could not serve her children anything. The little children cried for food and when they were tired they fell asleep. His elder daughter had now started understanding the situation. She slowly went to her mother and sat beside her.

"Why don't we leave this place anyways we will die today or tomorrow because of no food, then what will happen to our lands?"Champa asked her husband with tearful eyes."At least have some mercy on your children, they have not eaten properly for months....and you are not even ready to give up your land? at least the Zamindar will not be behind us we can leave this village and travel to some other village where you can start a new job and we can have 2 hours meal..." the pool of tears did not smeo in Champa's eyes.

Khasia had been in deep thought. He was quiet until now,"....but our ancestral land...this is where I earned everything, I worked with all my sweat and blood for this land, grown crops when days were good. We build this hut and now you are asking us to leave everything how can it be possible? I have reaped this land like my 4th child and you are asking me to leave my child?" he asked in a painful voice. Champa looked at him, a fierce, painful, distressful look a mixture of all emotions she uttered strongly, "To let our children live you have to let go of your land and house or else ......" she stopped"Or else what ?" Khasia asked

"Or else we will have to consume poison...rather than dying every day let's die one day together...."Champa blabbered in pain holding the little hands of her daughter tightly and hiding her tearful face against the corner of her torn saree. Khasia was mute, for 3 years long Champa has been supporting him giving him courage and today she is talking about death.....

The next 2 days were difficult for Khasia and his family, they had no grains to eat, and the men of the Zamindar had been guarding them and there were about. They were not even allowed to draw water from the only well which had water. Without food and water, they would no longer survive, whatever pots were filled with little water could not quench their thirst.

The little children cried for food continuously and when they grew tired they would fall asleep.

On the second night, Khasia silently awoke at the midnight hours, he look outside silently the guards of the Zamindar were half asleep. Few had started snoring already, one was awake trying to clench the mosquitoes with strong palms. Khasia silently opened the door without the notice of the awakened guard and tip-toed towards the cow shed which no longer had cows. His slender body mixed with the darkness, no one could guess if a shadow or a body was slowly mak

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ing a move.

He picked up the bucket and moved towards the door when he dashed against a long stick laying on the way, he tumbled and fell with a loud thud, all the guards awoke with the noise they flashed the torches and hurricane towards the thud.......no one was visible, Khasia had managed to escape while the others awoke.

He ran towards the well as fast as he could, his legs gave way, and his strength was no longer able to cling to him.

Somehow he pushed himself towards the only well in which the remaining village survived.

But fortune would have it. The well was guarded too. The men of the zamindar would hardly let the common people have water from the well."How would he quench his thirst, how would he quench the thirst of his family? Thinking he went forward_one step-then two...the guards here were alarmed, Khasia tried hiding behind the bush....a small lamp was listed and all the 4 men sat around it playing cards." This was the chance", Khasia thought and started walking towards the well like a thief. Unfortunately, the noise of unwrapping of the rope and bucket made the men cautious and they ran towards the well....when they saw Khasia they took their sticks and started beating Khasia....

"Thief....BA****RD......BLOODY FARMER....." they shouted at the top of their voice and constantly caned Khasia.

At the hut, without food & water and tiredness Champa had fallen fast asleep, she could not gauge when her husband had quietly gone outside. She shrieked suddenly as she woke up from a nightmare. She looked here and there, Khasia was not in sight. She looked at the door which was open and was banging against the wall seems like harsh air banged upon the tin door. She got confused, nervous and numb with fear. Where would Khasia go? It was about to be morning. She looked at her children who were asleep beside her. Without food and water, they all have grown lean. Champa could not understand where to look for Khasia. The eastern sky had turned reddish and a few crows had started to caw seemed like all the birds and animals had fled from the village.

When she heard a loud thud in the courtyard. The men of the zamindar carried a body like a sack of rice and threw it into the courtyard as if he was dead. Champa ran outside shrieking, crying, grieving. Kasia's body had turned pale, blood oozed out of every part of his body, covered in sand, dirt, mud and blood no one could identify him. His wounds were deep and there was less chance of his survival. Champa thumped on his chest lamenting, the breath was very low as if it would stop in a few seconds, Khasia had no strength to groan.

Champa lost her temper and started to use profanity against the men and zamindar but to no use.No one came for help. Lying in the pool of blood Khasia could not have withstood life, his elder daughter watching the situation ran to the men pleading with them for help, seeing no resort she ran to the next door for help, no one dared to go against the zamindar. The only way was to go to the Zamindar's house and plead, so she did which was her last resort.

Towards the afternoon, Khasia's breath gave way....he lay dead in the scorching sun. Champa's tears had dried up, she was seated numb...the children cried out their hearts.No one came forward to help them.

Towards the end of the afternoon few men came to take away the body to cremate. Champa did not say a word, the children ran behind the hanging dead body of Khasia from a sheet.

Famine is tragic, a horrifying moment in time, but it also leaves a legacy for the whole next generation, when families, communities and nations are impacted by famine, it casts a shadow on their future. The horrifying way of carrying the dead body had a great impact on Champa's son, he sat still without emotions.

It was the fall of the dusk Champa's elder daughter did not return yet, when all of a sudden a figure dropped down next to Champa, she came to sense with the sudden touch......it was her elder daughter, her face pale as dead as stone, wounds and cuts covered her hands and face, her dress torn across...blood patches on the face and body seemed dry. Champa felt as if an animal had pounced upon her daughter and torn her apart.

"WHERE WERE YOU....tell me WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN...." growled Champa in pain, fear, shame.....she realised her daughter had not been around since afternoon.

Champa's daughter said nothing and bowed down head down, tears rolled down her eyes, it did not take a moment for her mother to understand what might have happened.

The night was dark, Champa's elder daughter sat under a thorny tree trying to rub her body, hands, and legs to cleanse the wounds.....trying to purify herself, she was not in herself anymore, her younger sister trying to console her not understanding what had happened to their elder sister and crying profusely.

Champa was nowhere to be seen. The guards had relieved the family today....there was no one to protect them, they were literally at the mercy of the Zamindar, the next morning the greedy Zamindar, Ratanlal would take possession of their lands and house .....they sat at distance playing cards, enjoying drinks and smokes. Without anyone's notice Champa stealthily drifted through the windows into the Zamindar's house. The zamindar was fast asleep at the dead hours peacefully snoring.

Champa had tiptoed into the room. The house was silent, the zamindar's family was fast asleep. A lantern-lit the room and showed the peaceful Zamindar lying on the bed.

Slowly Champa took out something from the cover of her saree..the thing in her hand shone brightly in the light of the lantern...

She tightly gripped the H - shaped handle of the dagger.

All the past pleas, pain, and suffering that she and her family had gone through flickered in her mind for a moment....then the dead body of Khasia, her daughter who was brutally raped flashed into her mind.

She was strong now, full of vengeance, she lifted the dagger and with one quick blow slit the throat of the zamindar-Ratanlal, who did not get the chance to survive or cry...

Blood smeared over Champa's face, she controlled herself...and then without wasting time ran out of the room taking the same path she had arrived through......

The legs seemed to have gained strength.

She reached her house, grabbed the little children, caught hold of her elder daughter and pulled her...

They ran, they fled as fast as they can across the field, lands, barns, houses, and graves until they were out of breath.

It was the breaking of the dawn, soon the zamindar's men will come to know about his death, they will try to follow Khasia's family....but Champa would not stop to run & run with her children to reach a safe place......the sun did not rise yet, they reached the outskirt of another village affected by the drought. Their legs gave way, there was no strength left......hunger and thirst had started killing them from within......they fell to the ground, sulking.

Wounds, pain, and suffering had overpowered them.

But this was not the time to rest ....Champa was worried about her children, they lay almost senseless on the ground....their breath has lowered and the chance of their survival was less.

Champa too felt she was about to die, tears rolled down her eyes....she had no support, no destiny, no future......just the mumbling lips muttered prayers for one last time with an expectation to live ...and let her children live

she looked up to the sky and closed her eyes......

A drop of water fell on her face.....then a second, then a few more......and thus it started raining.....& raining heavily.

After 3 long years the dark clouds opened her bosom to embrace the earth to relieve it from suffering and pains.........