Representative imageChildhood is all about merrymaking, laughter and dreams. We can’t think of a childhood without the scent of a new book or the brilliant hues of a new dress.
It is painful when we think of the children who are confined to their bed without anything pleasant to look forward to. The plight of their parents sends shivers down the spine. We look down in shame when we realise that their misery is actually caused by us.
Hundreds of children as well as adults are suffering from various deformities in Kasargod. Most of them are confined to their cot or their wheelchair for a lifetime. Many of them can’t even handle their primary needs. They always need help. They are not aware of the world that goes around them. And they will have to cope with this misery throughout their lives.
The pesticide that is endosulfan was not accidental. We sprayed it over their heads despite warnings about a tragedy. Even when the poison began to take its toll, we kept arguing how we were doing the right thing. By the time endosulfan was banned after years of legal strife, the poison had spread through the brains and bodies of hundreds of children. The endosulfan-affected zone in Kasargod is like a battlefield raided by a chemical bomb. Even the newborns’ genes are chemically deformed.
We cannot evade our responsibility. This is the tragedy we presented to generations to come. What penance would suffice?
We have limitations to help these children lead a normal life. We can still present them the best life they can lead. A life filled with letters, colours and flowers.
This is the season of Navarathri, the season of the celebration of virtue’s triumph over evil. In North India, the demons are set on fire to celebrate this. This is the season of good, the season of letters. Let us do everything we can do for the lives affected by endosulfan.
So many children have come forward to help their friends in Kasargod through Manorama’s Nalla Paadam project. They took out the money they had saved to buy toys and candies to help the affected children in Kasargode. Let us learn from them. Let us make this a model. Give up a simple pleasure at least and contribute to the fund. We can turn this drizzle of succour into a torrent that can cool the poison-laden soil of Kasargod.
This is our penance. We can spread the shade of our love and care over their scorching lives. We can fill with colours their limited vision stuck on a corner of their roof.
This Navarathri, let us light a lamp to brighten up their lives as well. Let that wick turn into a light that leads them out of their disease-stricken existence.
If the tiny children who have lined up under the Nalla Paadam project can take the initiative to roll out such a huge venture, we can do much better. We have to realise that we have a greater duty to help them.
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