The Shooting Pangs of the Hunger Missile in Her Stomach

 

April heat was building up in Delhi. The year 2012 was hesitatingly moving towards the peak of summers in June, the hot cauldron boiling with its hot ingredients of political posturing and civil society movement. But then Indians do have some achievements to their credit. The missile had lit up the sky with a blinding blizzard of hope. Its terrible glint and glitter made everybody momentarily blind and oblivious to the dark miseries sprawled around. The missile had blazoned off yesterday, creating much of acclaim and war-time capabilities against Pakistan and now with this missile against China, the distant targets reaching well to the threshold of Beijing. The smaller targets were but distinctly visible this next day.

She is homeless and as dirty as can be imagined for a human being. Her old figure is busy picking things from the newspaper in front of her. She is eating like a monkey picks things in front of it, with a peculiar unconcerned intent. This is afternoon and the morning newspaper’s glory and utility is already gone. She picked it up from the sidewalk. The glorious front page, sprawled in front of her and now doing its second phase of duty like it does in India, first as a news-carrier and second as almost a utensil. The catchy headline seems to have fetched her extra luck. There are many eatables and coins in front of her, the newspapered glory being almost covered. She is sorting things out, putting things in her raggish cloth bag, soiled beyond imagination. She is eating in between as well. She is now done with her sorting and cleaning of the offerings made to her as the witchy Goddesses of hunger. She sees the missile with a fiery blaze in tow, rising high to the skies. There are still more beggarly offering around the picture on the paper. These are the things that even a homeless beggar cannot take. So with irritation she just crumples up the missile and the remnants in a bunch and gets up to walk to a tiny hovel that she has grabbed to spend the nights. 

Douse First the Agni in Hungry Abdomens   

Missiles are good. They might never be used. But their deterrence factor is acceptable. So all the best for the launch of Agni-V! But before we think of confidently hitting targets beyond 5000 kilometres, it is better if we spot the targets tugging at our shirts from all directions. This is the country where millions go hungry every day. Tragically, the FCI godowns are yearlong overfed with millions of surplus wheat. This wheat rots in rain under the open skies. The governmental machinery finds it impossible even to distribute it. Damn it, what type of economy is this! Or the government finds even the weather elements and invisible bacteria as equal citizens of this country and keeps so much of wheat to be destroyed by these. It is fine to shoot majestic rockets to make your presence felt across the globe, but it is also human to be true to your citizens by at least ensuring two meals a day to them. Moving ahead onto the next stage of the ICBM technology will require billions of dollars and technical expertise. But simply distributing the rottening grains in the FCI shelters does not require the inputs of that order. It is a simple act driven by genuine concern for your fellow human beings. This extra farm produce can be made a productive part of our campaign against hunger and poverty. If the government cannot do even that, it is better to throw it to stray cows and pigs. It will serve some purpose of dousing the fire in some abdomen. Animal or human does not matter, because millions of humans in this great country enjoy the same status as the stray cattle. They lie, walk, feed, defecate, procreate and die on the roadsides.