The Widow Protester.

With the mellowing sun spreading lingering and lustrous warmth overhead in a clear blue sky, I took a leisurely stroll from Rajeev Chowk metro station to reach Indian Coffee House.

As I was waiting for the traffic light to turn red, I saw a procession nearing the roundabout. By the time the light could turn red, the procession had reached the crossing and police had to divert the traffic.

The apron clad protesters clearly insinuated that the protesting chunk of population were doctors. The protest was lead by few suit clad men, probably senior doctors and the member of Indian Medical Association. There were few journalists covering the protest. Multiple placards in numerous hands read the cries of justice and condemned the murder of a doctor in Gaziabaad.

Under the influence of my inquisitiveness, I approached one of them, and inquired regarding their protest in detail. He told me that some MLA has killed a doctor in Gaziabad, and they were demanding action against him.

I would have asked him why? But I couldn't as I saw a lady in the crowd, walking very slowly, supported by two female students. Her pale face suffused with pain and grief. They were cordoned by a group of students.

Who is she? I asked him.

She is his widow. He replied.

For a few seconds, I was dumbstruck. Few days back, she must have been so full of life. Happy, contended and cheering life with a complete family. With her husband, her hopes and her wishes. And this sudden tyranny of fate had eviscerated her off everything. I thought.

I was not talking to the protester any more. He had moved away. What if I was at her place? What if had to go through this pain of the loss of a family member like this? This thought made a shiver run down my spine, which I tried to jerk off but it clung and made me sick.

A rogue’s blotted ego, and his bullet. Is human life so cheap? How long will we try shedding our responsibilities? How long will we continue to be insensitive, and insecure? How long will we choose to be part of this impotent mass? Do we need a death in every family, to nudge this impotency out?