Rotten!

A story about farmers' deaths in India

The air stank of sweaty clothes. Caws of crows packed the blue sky at once. The setting sun silhouetted the farmer's torso and subsequently sank into the valley. That evening, Ramayya hanged himself.
Vehicles circled him. Men with black flags got out of their cars. Khaki pants strolled on all sides of those men. A green garbage truck waited on the road. Cameras zoomed in and out, set themselves at right angles. Mobile phones raced each other's posts.
Perspiration ran down on Lakshmamma's forehead. Her hands stopped quivering. She sat down watching the parade all alone, lonely under the tree in a town of unknown plenty.
Waiting for a man, her husband Ramayya asked her to see, she sat there resting herself on her knees. The edge of her beedi burnt her fingers. Hunger quaked her stomach. Thirst waggled her throat. The locale reeked of heaps of rotten tomatoes.
Like the sun rising on the margins of her tomato garden, hope sprang out of uncertainties abruptly. Watching Anjaiah walk in, Lakshmamma looked into his eyes to see if he remembered his promise. Lakshmamma met him for the first time when he came to her village to talk about egalitarianism. He brought with him a plan printed on a large sheet of paper. "Cold-storage! This village needs a cold storage," Her husband explained to her. Confusion seeped further into her mind. Her husband's innocence always did a magic on her.
Into their streets when Anjaiah walked, he laid his hands on her husband's shoulder, visited their home, sipped their well water, spoke their language. "MaMa (Uncle)" children ran after him to seek the new things he brought. Video camera! They clicked pictures and videos. He told the little ones they had the right to sit in the first row in their class. He said, "Caste should be banned. All children are equal"
Tears gobbled up her thoughts instantaneously when Anjaiah said "namaste", hesitantly, amidst the crowd. There was no way he would know her name. Anjaiah is a political leader now. The flag lying on his shoulders seemed like a different one. He spoke a new political lingo.
At home, children must be waiting for food! She thought.
. "Compensation money will be given after a brief session of counselling", a lady hugged her and said.
Lakshmamma waited for the money. Hours flew. The garbage truck cleared the heap of rotten tomatoes. Ramayya's body was gotten rid of. And she waited patiently.