The wall

I came into existence during one of harshest months seen in this part of the country. In an already scorching land, this month was one of those cursed ones that rendered the farmers jobless and bankrupt. It was the month that made the women of the village walk for miles for pots of semi potable water that nurtured their lives and little possessions. It was the month that drove many a man to turn into the devil that lurked within and drove many others to the one possible solution to all their miseries - death, the final equalizer and purifier.

I have questioned the purpose of my existence more than any mortal could possible have. I did it every day of the 40 years of my life, day in and day out. I did it as I stood in the sun and rain, as I watched the world go while I stood motionless. I didn't have anything else to do you see. I was conceived with intentions that were pure and those that arose out of the need for conservancy of my creators ilk. That is the story woven around my rise, one cursedly parched and devilishly dusty day in the middle of this village where I still stand.

I am a wall.

I was built by one class of people to keep out another. I was built to keep the purity of one side of my existence intact by cutting off contact with the other side. The purer side possesses all the material wealth that this miserable land has managed to squeeze out. The other side bears all the miseries as if to ensure the balance of the world is in order. I for one didn't see much of a difference in the inhabitants of either side. They all looked the same and behaved the same. Males on either side doused me with liberal amounts of their excretions. Juveniles on either side sat on my parapet and leered at girls. Women folk on either adorned me with thick cakes of dung until it dried. From my view they were the same, but I am a miserably lower form of creation and I will never see the things the humans see.

My existence has been witness to the upheavals and the calamities of this village. I have seen the bounty that this land enjoyed and also seen its wretchedness at its worst. I have been a mute spectator to the fury of this villages inhabitants and also the compassion they show in equal measure. I have been fortified with the blood of many and also with offerings of worship in equal measure.

There have been laws drafted and high ranking officials have been visiting the village on and off to remove me for the divide I was causing in the lives of the people. Nothing came about. It was not because the officials were incompetent, it was because one group on this side of me didn't want it. I was designed to keep the status quo and as far as they were concerned I was doing my job fine.

I stand testament to the egregiousness of mankind. I am proof of the need for man to put man down to feel good about themselves. I have been around for a good many years now. I have seen many a man from the poorer side try to fight for their rights to passage - I was blocking their way to the only school available in the locality. This was a government school where everyone is supposed to be equal. 

But none came close to the fight put up by the great Ms A. She was tired of the beatings her drunk husband doled out generously when asked for money to run the house. She was tired of working away day and night for meeting her and her twos sons food needs alone. She decided that she was going to get her children educated. 

She visited the Thahsildar every week, the collector every month and the MLA every year. The action was always the same - "we will look into this, come back in a week", they said. She toiled on, not letting the despair get to her. Her sons deserved better. 

Angels do exist, but they do not always have blonde hair or wear white robes. Ms A's angel was a college student who was visiting the village for a project on rural hygiene. The girl walked in one day asking about how people in this side of the wall urinated and defecated. Ms A looked at me wistfully and lamented about how the common latrine along with any and all other facilities existed on the other side of the wall. 

The girl wrote a petition and filed it formally with the collector. The collector visited and wrote a formal complaint to the relevant authorities. Time went by and nothing happened to me, I still existed. 

But the angel that visited Ms A taught her something. The power of knowledge and the written word. Years of visiting the collector did nothing, but one signed piece of paper with the right words sent at the right time to the right person and things were moving. 

Ms A forgot all about me and did everything in her power to educate her sons. It has now been over 20 years since the angel visited. Ms A's elder son studied with a vengeance. He left the village and went to the city. He came back to the village a collector. 

Today bulldozers and men with crowbars stand awaiting the final orders. I am going to be obliterated. Its a relief, I cant stand the stench of human excrement or hatred anymore.