This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 39; the thirty-ninth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "Break"
Rama knew the value of education well. She was therefore forthcoming to support her two younger brothers. She did the household chores and made them lunch for school.
Rama was a charming girl of only 16. She took life as it came and was always happy, in spite of the fact that her mother died in the village arson. They had an absentee father whose only purpose was to drink and never cared for his children. She had meager earnings from selling firewood in the local village mandi.
One bright day, she was returning from the market. She came across a pottery maker. He made potteries of all sizes. Later he painted it with bright colors making beautiful patterns. Rama was mesmerized by the artistic beauty; she stood still and watched. Afterwards she was confident that given a chance she could improvise. She went and asked if he would keep her assistant and explained that in this way they could make double the number of potteries and sell them to get a bigger share of profit.
The kind man agreed but asked for a demonstration. He was stupefied by the magic in her hands and the efficiency and exuberance she displayed while making them. He didn’t hesitate and he gave her an extra set of pottery wheel and paints.
Soon their collaboration reached great heights. The man was all praise for her due to this unexpected turnaround in his fortunes. Soon her skill in pottery making was well known even in the nearby villages. She was approached by an NGO which helped her market products. Her artistic potteries could serve as a home décor and this would fetch her good price in the international markets.
Rama meanwhile enrolled her brothers in a private school and was glad that they never felt the void of their mother. She was content!
There was heat and suffocating smoke all around. The thatched room was burning inferno. Her brothers pulled her out. She was devastated by the scene she witnessed while covered in black soot from top to toe, her clothes tattered and charred. Her siblings were heaving. Other huts stood intact and everyone had rushed out.
She saw men on horses with blazing torch in their hands. She knew they were upper caste men from the inner core of the village. She understood the reason for her mother’s death.
It was clear that she was suffering the brunt of being born in a lowly caste. Her brothers’ education at the private school was loathed by these people. Segregation was the rule and violation was punished in this manner. The success of a lower caste was not tolerated.
They rode away mocking her. Other mute spectators went inside their huts. As the roof fell, the pottery consignment of about 100 potteries broke. She had a heartbreak and was completely shattered.
She fell down on the ground sobbing. Both her brother lifted her up, and at that instant decided to leave the village for good. They had to help their sister mend her broken dreams in a land where rule of nature prevailed and not of brute men!
But does such land exist?!
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