Those who are living in absolute poverty, life can be so villainous. Millions of people die, due to hunger. There is no need of concentration camps and no need of gas chambers...They will vanish due to hunger. They are everywhere...They are strewn all over; on pavements...footpaths...subways...near the gutter...under the bridge...in open ground... in desert...in plains....in mountains. They are out there with no one to take care. They are rotting...they are dying over there, in those killing fields, where people in abject poverty trying hard to live. The hungry masses in rain...in scorching heat...in extreme winters are left unattended, to die...Are we innocent? No we are not. We are killers, because we are mutely conniving with, fatal fate accompli of millions of people, by abandoning them to die. We are silent. In the conspiracy of silence we are all sinners. How is that, we can even think, that we are innocent.
In the intense struggle to survive in this world, many human beings are left to the pathetic circumstances of poverty. Poverty is not, as we weigh with our visual disgust. Millions of people in unimaginable terms of poverty, struggling to settle with life, each day for them is a curse. The matter of hope never touches their heart; they live but death looms over them, with ease. Death is an inevitable truth, so as the life is. This world is so beautiful but life is not; in the demarcated existence of human beings, the poverty distinguishes itself with extreme cruelty, which brazenly bludgeons every hope. The reasons of good gets shredded with so much of impunity, that in the filth of existence, the poverty stricken masses are looked upon with disdain.
The Global poverty can be seen in every nook and corner of the world. Why it is so, that in spite of development in every field of human existence, poverty holds millions of people to its ransom. Think of worse, which what can happen to any human being, who is poor and holds no means to feed. He survives every day and every day is a miracle to him that he survives. He lives, to die another day. And when he dies, he goes unnoticeable.
The mortification of the downtrodden cannot be comprehended in words but yes, as we look, we find no life in them. With stoned eyes, they permit your gaze, to scan deeper the deplorable conditions they live in. They have no other choice; they just don’t have any emotion and they have no strength to question or to pretend. One can only see the starvation raising siren on their face.
My innocence, if wish to claim the place of honor of not knowing about such killing fields then certainly something terribly wrong with me…I cannot immortalize my arrogance of innocence over the dead bodies, who once upon a time were living human being.
In hunger they were born…In hunger they lived and in hunger they died