It was a day of epic proportions. Seldom had I witnessed such rapid transition of emotions, from the ecstasies of being accepted to the agonies of being abandoned, all in a spate of few minutes. The bright future that they had dreamt of, once again proved be castles built in the air, flattering to deceive, yet leaving nothing but void. While departing from the premises of the school building where their children had finally been admitted after a series of contemptuous rejections, I couldn’t help but notice the childish grin that adorned their countenance. An hour later, when I bade adieu to the people of Maninagar after witnessing feebly their improvised shelters made of bamboo sticks and plastic bags being reduced to dusts, a smile was still there, a shabby little flash of teeth, more as a sign of resignation to their fate, as if saying to me, “no matter how much you try, this is our destiny, and this is our destination”.
The atrocities of AMC and police that followed two days later is not something that can be summarized or even explained at any logical level, but can only bee seen, and felt, and regretted upon. All that can be presented is facts. An old woman, down with scorching fever with nothing to hide her from the wrath of sun, only because her possessions have been confiscated by some reprobates who call themselves public servants. A man who is desperately trying to retrieve his belongings, carrying with him a broken arm that bears testimony to the harshness that these people have been subjected to, in order to subjugate them. And many more such realities, which when chronicled, would be sufficient to draw compassion from the most stubborn of hearts.
Promises have been made to them, and nothing but promises. They have been promised homes, but they exist only on paper. They have been promised access to basic amenities of life, but they remain only in pipeline. And even as this vicious cycle of making and breaking of promises by the authorities is continued, there are hundreds of lives who battle through life, spending their lives in making life a possibility, and waiting eternally for death to overpower them someday. They have no hopes, no ambitions, and these are mere words for them, words that have no meaning and no existence. George Bernard Shaw once wrote, “There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart’s desire; the other is to gain it”. People of Maninagar slums have seen them both.
