Where there is no doctor

Where there is no doctor,
no NGO, no government.
Where are are no toilets,
Nor water, nor jobs.
Where there no rights even.
A voice emerges.

This is the world of the Musahar - the rat-eater. A caste so low, it can only afford to east rats. Debased, defiled, are such men and women, who have no rags to wear or even petty jobs to do, capable of free thought? Can they be intelligent and express themselves?

They can. There is one woman, and she has dared to change the world. She has fought, and struggled, and won against a powerful toddy mafia. Not just her home or village, but an entire district she has freed from the scourge of toddy.

She will go to New York and address the United Nations. She wants a world, not free of war or illiteracy or povery, but of alcohol. For, like the Buddha, she has seen through layers of maya, and with her human understanding, thinks the world is a better place without wine.

I wish her very bit of luck that she can get, for her message is a difficult one. No prophet was heard in his time; for the sake of the world, I hope she is heard.


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