Plight of Farmers

One day I went to watch a film to take off the pressure my recent university exams had given me. I and my friends dressed up and left our apartment at 4 pm to the movie theatre. When I went out that evening, I saw a poor farmer just outside our flat sitting in the footpath with little vegetables spread across his small temporary table like setup. He had maybe 3 cabbages, around 9 small packets of onion, some spinach and few other veggies. That man was sitting even without a shelter in the scorching sun with a turban on his head. His complexion was fairly dark because of the constant exposure to Sun and his fingers were thin and worn out. Face was unshaven and looked coarse but gentle. His eyes watered continuously when I closely watched him while waiting for the bus. After watching the film, when I came back, that farmer was still sitting there with his compact nuclear family waiting to sell that day’s harvest which had little takers. He was gazing out dejected to the highway with half despair and hope expecting a saviour to pass by so that they can have a decent meal tonight but by then it was dark and moon popped out of the sky. The farmer’s lantern scantly lit stood no chance against darkness which blanketed it and I reluctantly passed by with a heavy heart contemplating whether I could buy anything which I had no need. When the farmer saw me looking at him he suddenly waved his hands at me and stood up to grab my attention and enquired whether I wanted anything and urged me to buy by offering me the vegetables on a steep discount, explaining to me the nutritional value of each vegetable. His hand with some vegetables was held out to me while he explained its nutritional properties. Although I wanted to buy something my wallet was almost empty by the time I came back after the movies. So, I relented and then suddenly turned and asked my friends whether they had any need for vegetables but one told that he will get it for even cheaper price in an online website and they walked away without any emotions and this led me to think how different I was from all others. I was visibly sad because I was unable to help him. The dimming light from the farmer’s lantern felt to me like a man’s unyielding fight with a catalyst called hope against life and its cruel eccentricities. 70 years after India’s Independence, we are still in lookout for a Good Samaritan across the political spectrum coming to the aid of the farmers.