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Unknown Corner Of My Nation
Unknown Corner Of My Nation
★★★★★

© Sangharsh Bomzon

Abstract Crime Inspirational

3 Minutes   2.1K    113


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When I turn towards my right all I can see is a white painted wall with a window, secured with yellow painted iron bars. I can see many things outside but on closer observation they reveal many facts about my life. I can hear the pattering sound of the rain and when I start imagining , the entire scenario becomes much vivid. I close my eyes and I can see the raindrops touching the water surface of the pool that it has created thus generating circular concentric tremors. I can see those green leaves of that mango tree outside, moving and producing rustling sound when the velocity of the wind increases. And when the rustling sound is overshadowed by the loud thunder with occasional lighting, I get baffled.

I start thinking and the picture becomes much more lucid. I remember my family. I see images of my father and mother who have grown old. Even if I try to stretch my eyes to get a view of the horizon, I won't be able to see them because they are hundreds of miles away from me. I wonder how they are? In fact I feel the same for all the people back in hometown.

Just like the thunder overshadows the rustle of the leaves, the Government has always overshadowed the cries of our people. Those yellow iron bars on the window are very much similar to the closed door of my house. They make us realize that we are forbidden to go outside. The conspicuous act of deploying 17 battalions of CRPF gives us the chills yet no one pays attention to our plight. Everyday I call my father just to make sure that whether they are fine or not. Every move of the Government looks like a portentous omen for me. I have no grudges against the Government or those bureaucrats rooted in the highest level of authority but I hate them because politics has ruined our democracy.

I extended my hand through the window and felt the cold raindrops on my palm. I noticed that the raindrops were similar to those that falls in my hometown. They were watery and cold. The composition and temperature of the rain are irrelevant but the feeling it generates are the same whether here or back in the hills. Then why is there a difference in the ideologies among the people? Why do I get called as 'Chinese' when I am an Indian citizen living within the territory of India? Why am I referred as 'chinky' when I have a name? Why are we designated foreigners in our own land? I have encountered numerous instances when people have asked me my native place and when I answer them, they ask again, 'does that place belong to China?'

When I was a boy , I was proud of my nation and it's democracy. We were all innocent and had no idea that we all would grow up to be hypocrites. We were born angels but worldly negative impulses made us what we are today. But I'll never give up my hope and will always retain my optimistic thought because it's not just about my identity but it's about all of us hoping to restructure the present so as to produce a better tomorrow.

Jai Hind!

chinese democracy india country jai hind father foreigner

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