Hunger

by Isha Jain (India)

I didn't expect to find India

We don’t know hunger. We have seen it in the movies and documentaries, read about it in books and newspapers. People have to leave their homes and loved ones, work menial jobs and often resort to committing crimes. This is a fact. But the emotions that come with it have never been clear. There is a detachment to the pain not felt ourselves. I always gathered that this kind of poverty and hunger leads to despair and desperation. “We should hurry. It is getting late.” Mahesh said to me. He was one of the two doliwale that we had to hire for my younger sister. They worked in groups of two to carry young children to the temple of Parasnath hill, Chhattisgarh. “It is fine if we get down a little late.” I said, panting from the exertion of trekking for twelve hours. They did not look like they had been on the same journey with the addition of my sister’s weight on their shoulders. “It is still better to hurry.” He motioned me to walk beside them so that they could scare away the monkeys if they came. “Why are you in such a hurry? There aren’t wild animals around, are there?” My parents were about half an hour behind us. I was thinking of stopping at one of the shacks to wait for them. His partner said something to him in their local tongue and he replied angrily to him before turning to me. “No madam, we just have to buy food for our family and get it to them before they fall asleep.” That is when I realized why he kept pushing us to walk faster. They would buy food with the money that they would get from us. Their families would fall asleep hungry if we ran late. I dropped the idea of waiting for my parents. But I was too tired to continue. I had to take a break. “Can we stop for a minute?” We stopped and they set the doli down. My sister was sleeping now, tired from the three hours that she walked alongside me. He crouched down and adjusted her beanie so that it covered her ears properly. He also covered her properly with the blanket that we had brought along with us. I pulled my jacket closer but it did not help. The weather was getting worse by the minute. “Aren’t you cold?” They were just wearing a thin shirt and dhoti that ended at their knees. They were not wearing any kind of footwear either. Their soles looked hard with no color, the skin dry and cracked. “We are used to it.” his reply was a statement, not a complaint about his condition or a call for sympathy. I paid them and took my sister in my arms after we finally reached the starting point. He helped me cover her with the blanket and sit on the bench while we waited for my parents. “Thank you.” He looked at me with confusion. “For her.” I explained. He smiled. “We are in service of him.” he pointed upwards. These people did one of the hardest jobs that a person can do, not even sure if they would get enough to feed themselves and their families the next day. But the faith and the humanity that they possessed was not affected by this. Their service helped not only children but people with disabilities and old age to undertake the pilgrimage too. They may not have wealth but they led a meaningful life. A life that was led with faith in helping others, despite the harsh conditions of their own life.