Page 163 - Kolaj Sharodiya Review Edition

Mannat

Animesh Gupta

Those were the last days of July; hot and humid. Excepting some light rain, there was no relief. The onset of regular monsoon was still awaited in and around the city of Delhi. It
seemed like the seasons were in the process of changing their schedules.

Moni, a quiet girl, was thoughtfully looking up to the hue-less sky from the terrace of their accommodation at a housing colony in the southern part of the city. The immensity of
the blue sky once adorned with countless stars was now covered with a handful of grey bodies creating a semi-dark patch of lifeless colors. As a SSC pass out and already in
her teens, Moni knew that the upshot was due to global warming, giving rise to the feared climatic and other kinds of pollution. She had learnt that willful destruction of nature
by humans was one of the central causes for this process of slow and lethal killing of the planet earth.

Inclining on the railings, Moni was trying to recollect a queer spectacle witnessed in the afternoon. This and some unkind memories from not so distant past raised an intense
question about beliefs and concepts of life. The incident occurred after the school hours when she had taken a shorter route on the way to her home. Striding along a by-lane
in the colony, Moni came over an old Peepul tree that had grown next to the only temple of the area. The huge tree with its branches and leaves stood like an old monarch
offering quite a shelter from the Sun and rain alike.

Earlier, there was a little shower and tiny water drops were falling down on the grassy ground. There were many yellow and red colored threads wrapped around the branches
of the tree that could easily be known as the symbols of ‘Mannat’, the vows made by devotees of the nearby temple-deity to offer sacrifices against fulfillment of their
long-cherished desires.

Looking down, Moni was shocked to find a clay statue of Lord Ganesha underneath the dual colored offerings. The paint on the model was now wiped out in patches
revealing raw soil. A dark void, where once was the tip of Lord Ganesha’s nose, was now staring agape. Only the gloomy elephantine eyes and ears were intact along with bits
of paint here and there as proof of the once magnificent structure. Litters of rotten flowers along with torn papers and polythene bags have arranged themselves in a garland
adorning the holy shoulders of the deity.

The distinctiveness of the sight drew Moni closer to the spot. Shiny rain drops, gathered around the intense eyes of the statue were rolling down the colorless cheeks creating an
impression that the God was weeping in silence. The impact of the scene under the hazy sky and misty environs made the girl melancholic and down. Suppressing an impulse
to cry, she stopped and stood motionless there for some time and then sat on her knees in front of the dilapidated deity.

With the air cooling down, the afternoon sky lost most of its glare. There was silence all over. Even the gentle breeze, it seemed, was carrying a surge of sadness along with it. As
if possessed, Moni almost crawled forward and unwarily queried in a whisper,
- Are they really the drops of the tears!

No reply came; none was expected. Moni was analytical enough to realize that no miracle could happen in practical world. Not a soul can expect a mound of clay to speak
for itself. Instead, Moni started searching her logical mind for a clear explanation. In the process, a peculiar dizziness encompassed her and she felt a consciousness rose from
her core before responding…
- How could anyone dump the statue of a deity in such a way!