Miss Alone
Prime VIP
I met this man some days ago while hunting a fresh story. At first glance itself, Mr. Manchala Singh won my heart. He hails from north India, and is on a journey in the city of dreams; since no one knows – not even him!
He roams on his cycle and talks less. However, I was able to communicate a little with him. He’s one of those displaced and unfortunate farmers, who have lost everything except hope. He’s now dislocated form his family and has developed a physiological issue. Once a farmer, he now insane (almost). He has a bag full of stories to tell. He talks of past days of glory w hen there was abundance.
“सारी फसल नाचती थी मेरे खेतों में…अब कुछ भी नहीं
बोहोत थी ज़िन्दगी…अब कुछ भी नहीं है.”
One thing I am sure that this is not his real name. I kept his asking about his real name but he was indifferent. I didn’t get to know much of him but I know the pain of getting raped out of business; especially an age old family business.
Only God knows how many such people are walking on this land of plenty – without a beginning, without an end. I can’t do much but can surely pray and listen to their story and maybe, offer support in whatever way possible.
