Martyrs of Inhumane

Another week in village. Another nascent experience of true India. The India which always attracts me the most. Attracts to know, attracts to understand and attracts to feel it from the within.
This time I was in Bastar District of Chattisgadh. This district is famous for its beautiful Bastar Art on wood and wrought metal and infamous for Naxalite movement. I had always thought of traveling those areas which is severely hit by Naxalism. Not that I want to be martyrs for unnecessary reasons but to experience closely the life and livelihood of the people who are part of or support this philosophy. Unfortunately I had not been suggested to travel in those areas. Since after 3rd week of every month, the Naxalite movement takes an unusual pace in these areas. I don’t know the logic behind this. So I planned to travel Kondagaon, a small and beautiful village of Bastar District, also a place where military forces had made camp for fighting with the Naxalite movement.
After finishing my work there, we were coming back from the hilly roads. It was sunset time. After spreading lights to the world where people of country feel that there is deep darkness due to the nasty Naxalites, the Sun was heading towards another world to spread its bright light. I had never seen such a beautiful sunset in any crags land. The blue sky was turning into saffron color as if it was spreading a beautiful bed sheet for its son Sun to sleep in the night after doing an arduous work of spreading brightness to the world. I was almost spellbound to see this beauty of nature. The car was running with its usual speed. Suddenly I saw some cheering crowd in an empty piece of land at left side of the road. I asked my colleague about this crowd and their cheers, he said that "cock-fight" is going on.

Oh, I would like to see that. And we went near to the crowd, made some place in the inner periphery of the circular crowd to see what is happening in the well of this circle. There two big roosters were fighting very badly with each other. Entire crowd was cheering and shouting to excite those roosters. Those roosters were fighting so violently that it once scared me. The claws of those big roosters were having a very sharp one edged blade tide with it. While fighting, they were using the blades to hit each other. Lot of small denomination of money was flowing in this fight as a part of betting. Some were winning, some were cheering hard to let win the loosing match.

The crowd was cheering, bloods of those roosters were fluxing, money was flowing, roosters were using different techniques to kill each other, some were winning some loosing and the ultimate winners were the owner of those fighter roosters. So inhumane. And finally that happened which was expected by the crowd. One beautiful red colored rooster died in this violant fight and the black colored won this fight. That red rooster while dying brought a smile over the crowd, a smile of satisfaction, a smile of “Paisa Vasool”.

A village may be considered as a silent, serene place to live but there are lot of violence happening there and lot of unknown martyrs are giving their life to make the day of the villagers. Martyrs of inhumane acts like that of that red rooster. My all the sympathy are there with you, you brave red rooster (RIP).