Wednesday, September 24, 2014

“But he is pointing his finger at us,”

Mohit said, the guy (Thakur by caste)
as he drove me past the Ambedkar 
statue, on my way to work in Noida. 
“One day we got together and stole 
the statue in our village in Meerut, &
hid it in the fields!” “Why?” I asked. 
“You see, that finger, it’s always pointing
– That Thakur killed my brother! That 
Thakur stole my land! That Thakur raped
my daughter, and, goads our police to use
that rotten atrocity act in his book, look,” 
he pointed to the one in Ambedkar’s hand,
“so we took the damn thing and threw it 
away.” He carried on speaking, something
about the big sorrows of the Meerut Thakurs, 
I sat, quiet, seat-belt buckled, saw the statue 
again, bronze Ambedkar looked at us, chuckled.

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