Many many years...almost when it was once-upon-a-time, I got hold of some Chicken Soup for the Soul books through come circuitous route, the details of which I rather not go into now simply because they are not informing in any way to what I am now going to share. The story of the starfish that I read there is as follows:
A man is walking down the sea beach. Lonely - both the man and the beach. Almost at the other end, at the horizon, walking towards him is the dot that is another man. However, our man gets slightly curious since the other dot-man is apparently walking a few steps, then stooping then standing up and walking a few more steps before again stooping and standing up. This man gets very intrigued, and starts walking faster so as to meet him sooner and find out what he is upto. In sometime they are within visibility range and the first man realizes that the other man is actually stooping down to pick up a starfish or a jellyfish that has been washed ashore by the wave and throwing it back to the sea before it dies. The man laughs, at the gross futility. Soon they are face to face, and our man says: "So, you are throwing back those things? But everyday, across all the beaches in the world, millions of such creatures are thrown on to the sand and they are doomed to die. That's how it is. What difference can you make?" The fish-thrower man says nothing but stoops and picks up a quivering starfish and throws it far back into the sea. He says: "I just made a difference to that one."
The story made me sad, it made it feel touched, it irked me ... for all the starfishes I had never bothered to throw back into the sea. I know that is how things are; that is how most things/beings live. eek, survive. That is what the state also tells us: "erom to kotoyi hoye!" (Such incidents are very common - too common to be bothered by). Some tell us that most villagers are used to living without electricity, so don't bother. Others tell that women are used to getting touched and oogled at on the streets, so just don't bother about these. Some others tell us that the tribals are used to getting nothing from either the state or the people who claim to be fighting for them, so let them die. Don't bother. Anyways, what difference can I make?
One in a multitude ... both yearning for some breath-able air and soaked with helpless rage at the futility ... yet optimism refuses to go away (even if you said it was Western, white and "theirs", I shall not yield) ... writing provides some transient relief...thus selfishly I seek to write ... the blog my emotional garbage-bin...
No comments:
Post a Comment