On a blistering day in June, under the scorching midday sun, when the surrounding air danced in a haze of heat and rose towards the glaring sky, a giant of a man standing eight feet tall and weighing nearly a quarter of a ton tugged on his shoulders a massive wood and iron plough. Scarring the face of an endless field, he churned the hard soil preparing it for his master to plant his crops. With the strength of a labouring ox and a simple mind that had not matured much or developed, Boloram had worked his whole life as a human bullock.
“Ei, Boloram’da would you like to have a mango,” enquired the ten-year-old Chutki with half a dozen of the juicy fruit gathered in the cradle of her skirt. Sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree, she dangled her legs to the tune of the Bengali limerick “Ikir mikir cham chikir, chamer kata Majumdar, Dheer elo Damodor,” an ancient children’s game played by counting and folding one’s fingers.
“No Chutki, I rather finish ploughing the rest of the field, otherwise your father would beat me up. Save a mango for me, I will eat it later,” replied the burlesque simpleton and continued lugging the massive plough on his shoulders, while the little girl played on humming “Ikir mikir…” and enjoying her mangoes under the hot summer sun.
The district of Malda was the largest producer of excellent quality jute in India. Apart from jute – rice, legumes, and oilseeds were the chief crops in the surrounding areas. Mulberry plantations and mango orchards also occupied large tracts. Silk manufacturing and mango trade had become the major economic activities in the district.
Surrounded by the waters of the rivers Fulhar and Ganges, Bhutni was a small island in this Malda district of the Indian state of West Bengal. It was a part of the physiographic sub-region known as the Diara, a relatively well-drained flat land with fluvial deposits of rich and newer alluvium soil that made it ideal for cultivation. The livelihood of most of the ninety thousand residents of the isle centred around agriculture. Boloram was born and lived in Dakshin Chandipur, one of the sixty-three villages of this fertile little island.
Twenty-seven years ago, on a half-moon night of low tide, a low caste single mother cowhand, gave birth to a bastard son and took her last breath in her master’s barn. A woman servant, the only person present there, took the infant and latched his lips to the udders of a milking cow. Born in the filth of bovine dung and urine, the boy grew up with the cows and the bullocks.
The master had nothing but much aversion and hatred for the illegitimate child. He would have gotten rid of the boy a long time back, had he not discovered the kid’s inhuman strength and decided to use him for laborious jobs. Gradually as the chap grew older, the master realised that his too simple mind was not suited for any intelligent work and used him only for ploughing the fields as a full-time human bullock.
Boloram came back to the fallen trunk at the corner of the field after finishing ploughing his designated patch of the land for the day. He wanted to have the mango that Chutki had promised him. To his surprise, the little girl was not there while an intact mango lay on the dirt, with a bunch of flies buzzing around it. Chutki was very neat and caring; she would never leave a mango for her dear friend on the ground?
“Ei Chutki, ei Chutki, where are you? Come, come out now from wherever you are hiding,” called out Boloram and went about looking for the little lass forgetting about and leaving behind the tasty mango that a moment before he had been craving for. Finding his tiny friend was more important to the giant than having a bite at the juicy fruit. He always worried about the spirited child, worried that she would eat something wrong, worried that she would hurt herself in a fall, worried about all the small things that could hurt a ten-year-old lively little village girl.
Most of the villagers looked down upon Boloram. They considered him dirty and dumb, a man who was more of an animal than a human. They would curse him, spit on him, beat him, and do all sorts of things to torment and humiliate him. The simpleton, however, had come to accept his abusive fate and overlooked everyone’s mock and scorn. He controlled any angry or hateful feelings, worrying that he might badly injure or even kill someone.
Boloram had just three comforts; the first was ploughing the fields, which gave him great joy as no one would come and disturb him there. There he had a purpose and was in control of his being. The second was spending time in the barn, where he looked after the cattle and even spoke with them. He considered the cows and bullocks as his kith and kin. He was born there and felt at home in the place. The third was the ten-year-old Chutki, the only person in the universe who did not hate him, was his only true friend and accepted him for who he was.
“Aei bata Boloram, why are you loitering around you good for nothing fool. Come here immediately, you nincompoop,” thundered the master from under the shade of his villa portico, from where he saw the giant snooping aimlessly around the trees and the bushes.
The master was enjoying his afternoon siesta on his bamboo charpoy and was annoyed to wake up to see the brute sulking about the place. “Sorry, my lord, please don’t be annoyed. I’ve finished ploughing the field. I was worried about your daughter and was trying to find her,” stuttered the giant and quickly came and sat on the floor catching the leg of the master’s wobbly bedstead.
“Don’t lay your dirty hands on my bed, you low-born filthy untouchable cur. I told you not to fill Chutki’s head with the dung in your skull,” roared the master and kicked Boloram in his face while still lying on his rickety charpoy. To the giant, the master’s kick was just like the tap of a fly; he was too strong for the master to hurt him physically. He had grown up receiving such kicks, slaps, and blows. The only pain that such aggression still caused him was in his heart and in his mind.
Chutki opened her eyes in partial darkness. Scared and disoriented, it took a while for her to calm herself. Her hands were bound, with the same sticky tape that covered her mouth, encircling her head. In the light that came through a crack in the wall, she saw her four mangoes wobbling on the floor. After rhythmically swaying for a while, the dark room violently shook for a few moments, and with a final jerk, it stopped moving. The scared little girl heard muffled sobs and moans, realising that she was not alone.
Two kilometres from the master’s villa, a Tata 407 flatbed pickup truck cradling a small shipping container on its back stood in the shade of a grove off the road. Four men consumed country liquor and played cards on a tarp laid on the ground beside the parked vehicle.
“Hello, friends, have you seen a little girl playing around,” asked the ignoramus goliath to the four gambling drunks. Searching for Chutki for more than two hours, enquiring with every person he came across, Boloram had landed at the grove off the road. “Get lost, you lumbering clown. Don’t disturb us. We are in the middle of a very serious game. We just have a few hours left before the boat comes to transport our precious cargo across the river.” replied Kota, their green-eyed leader.
Boloram realised that these men were just drunks wasting their time gambling while waiting for a riverboat. He decided to leave them and continue his search further down the road, on the shoreside and the secluded jetty area just up ahead. “Carry on with your game brothers and do keep an eye out for the little girl. I will go and check somewhere else,” said the simple giant and moved away.
Now Boloram was really worried. He had searched for a long time, and there was no sign of the girl. Not finding Chutki in the shoreside, he took through the fields to cover more grounds. Before long, he was back at the same grove off the road where the truck was parked a few hours ago, and now it was gone.
The gentle giant hopelessly sat on the ground in the shade of the grove, covered his face with his massive palms and sobbed loudly. He became annoyed at the flies buzzing around and cursed them for not even letting him cry in peace. All his anger came down on the buzzing insects. He rose up and violently kicked and struck the air to decimate their kind, but nothing happened, and the flying arthropods kept on buzzing by. Then he suddenly realised, why were there so many flies in that grove at that time. He bent down and saw lumps of crudely torn flesh of mangoes lying on the ground.
He focussed on the flies and saw a few of them go and sit on another clump of torn mango flesh a few feet away. He moved towards the spot and realised that there were more flies further ahead and other torn pieces of mangoes making a trail. Following the little chunks of his favourite fruit, guided by the buzzing flies, Boloram was back at the riverside jetty, a kilometre from the grove, where he had searched a few hours back.
At the riverside, Boloram saw the Tata 407 parked. The back door of the container it cradled was wide open. The giant went to have a closer look and saw four seeds of his favourite kind of mangoes on the floor of the metal box. Someone had been pushing out torn chunks of the juicy fruits from a crack in the metal container’s wall.
Realising what might be happening, Boloram ran towards the shore where one of the four drunks he had seen in the grove was untying a rope attached to a sixteen feet long motorboat. Seeing the giant lunge towards him, the ruffian took out a curved kukri knife to strike. His efforts met a jaw-shattering massive slap from the behemoth. The man fell unconscious, face down on the sand.
Seeing what had happened to his man, Kota, the leader of the gang, pulled the ignition cord of the boat’s engine and twisted the throttle to escape the giant. What happened next was unbelievable. In a display of unheard human strength, the human bullock tightly held the boat line. A guzzle of sand and water sprayed all over the place from the fast-rotating propellors. The engine spewed black smoke in a futile effort to pull the boat into the water. The goliath did not budge.
One backward step after the other, the gargantuan simpleton pulled the sixteen-footer away from the water and onto the sand. The human bullock had triumphed over the Yamaha E8D Enduro Marine Outboard Motor. Terrified by this display of inhuman strength, Kota and the other three ruffians got down from the boat and ran to save their skins that day.
With the boat line still twisted around his arms, drenched in blood, and buried into the skin of his hands, Boloram slowly moved towards the boat and opened the sliding door on the topside of its hull. Within the dark and watery belly of wooden craft lay five children with their hands tied and their mouths gagged.
It is estimated that human trafficking affects around 65 million people in India. Those who are trafficked, are forced to work in industries such as brick kilns, rice mills, agriculture, and embroidery factories, to mention a few. It is believed that a child goes missing, every eight minutes in the country and one in every six children missing is from the state of West Bengal.
In 2019, officially, over one-hundred-nineteen-thousand children were reported missing in the sub-continent, of which more than nineteen thousand were from the state of Bengal. Sadly, only about thirty per cent of the cases are reported. The nation has around three million prostitutes, and forty per cent of them are children under the age of eighteen.
With its porous international border with the country of Bangladesh, the districts of Malda, South Dinajpur and North Dinajpur in West Bengal are both a source and transit point for massive human trafficking in the Southeast Asian region.
So, if you ever happen to land in the Dakshin Chandipur village on the Bhutni island in the Malda district of the Indian state of West Bengal, do ask around for a giant of a man with a weakness for mangos, who became a local hero and saved five children from the clutches of human traffickers. He is a bit shy and avoids meeting strangers, but if you get the season and you’re timing right, you are bound to catch a glimpse of the gentle behemoth, working in the fields, tugging on his shoulders a massive wood and iron plough, labouring as the human bullock.
Copyright © 2022 TRISHIKH DASGUPTA
This work of fiction, written by Trishikh Dasgupta is the author’s sole intellectual property. Some characters, incidents, places, and facts may be real while some fictitious. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, send an email to the author at trishikh@gmail.com or get in touch with Trishikh on the CONTACT page of this website.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Trishikh Dasgupta
Adventurer, philosopher, writer, painter, photographer, craftsman, innovator, or just a momentary speck in the universe flickering to leave behind a footprint on the sands of time... READ MORE
Weekend Stories by Trishikh 
This data about “human trafficking”, is of serious concern, especially the large numbers of children engaged in it.
“Gangubai Kathiawadi” is a latest bollywood release about the prostitutes in Mumbai. I think girls should not be forced to come into this profession.
Government should cover each aspect and people involved, in this profession, to legalised it under constitution.
It’ll help the prostitutes, to take decisions of their lives, get their children educated, take benefits of government schemes.
Not exactly like Boloram, there was an old servant, who used to work in the fields of our neighbours (they’ve larger land area), and finally get freed by his brothers.
He was working their before I born to till last few days, now aged almost 80+. He had no family. He used to eat and drink separately.
Surprisingly, He got excited when his brothers came to take him with them. Earlier he used to reject such offers.
Thank you for the story, Trishikh. I started with the first word of first sentence, not stopped till the last word of last sentence. Best wishes. 😁💡✨
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Dear Lokesh, it is always a treat to have your comments. I absolutely agree with you on legalising prostitution. When a problem is so humungous, we need to think of ways to first live with it and then perhaps think to eliminating it. Am yet to see Gangubai, saw a lot of review and trailers. Will see on Netflix when it releases 2 months from now.
I am intrigued to learn about the old man working at your neighbours field. Bonded agricultural labour is very common in our country, we get to see it all the time in the villages.
Am glad that you read my story at a single go. Thank you for always being so supportive of my writing.
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You’re humble, simple and a proficient storyteller. That’s what people look when they search for reading blogs.
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Thank you for your kind words Lokesh and your faith in me. Your words always gives me great joy.
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Reblogged this on Ned Hamson's Second Line View of the News and commented:
Great story of true human kindness and grit.
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Always a pleasure to see my story showcased in your blog Ned.
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Great story.. saddened to learn about all the missing children.. much love to you.. Fiona 😊
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Dear Fiona, the problem is sad indeed and effects mostly every community worldwide.
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Engrossing.!
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Thank you so much. It makes my day when someone appreciates.
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Trishikh! The flow of your stories is unbeatable! Loved how you’ve woven this one. So many emotions, so many undercurrents and such a vivid description!
Your work always inspires me to write better. I want to stay true to my style but I want to aspire to the bar of writing which you’ve set.
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Dear Harish, I am so glad that you like my writing psychology. I too am everyday influenced by so many writers whom I read. It is important to read and learn from others. I am so happy that you draw inspiration from my work.
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I love this story, Trishikh, but also feel sadness at the picture of India you are portraying. I know that you write as a historian and a documentary maker and for that reason, your books will live on as classics.
Joanna
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Dear Joanna, yes I am guilty of highlighting the darkness of the Indian society in many of my stories, however, my effort is also to showcase underlying moral messages, and celebrate the triumph of human goodness. You have been one of the best analysers of my stories, I discover so much of myself from your comments. I really treasure it.
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Thank you, Trishikh, for being so understanding. As I love India so much
I wish that it was a Utopian country, foolish really…
Joanna
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You are not wrong in doing so. Irrespective of all the backwardness and evils, India was, is, and will always be a great place of learning.
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True!
Facts!
The darkest side
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Darkness indeed, however we also have the light within us.
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Your works/posts are all a medium to remove darkness. As i said you can present the facts of our society through a story which is very unique. Let there be light! may we do something.
Regards
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You are very kind with your appreciation Arun. Glad that you feel my writing brings little rays of hope in the dark corners of our world.
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Obviously!
I believe that your writing and my writing will remove darkness in the society.
May it be in small level. But if we can integrate it over a large numbers, we can easily fulfill our wish.
We both wish that let there be peace.
No killings
No betrayal
No dishonesty
Only love and peace prevails
We will do. At least we can try.
Regards 🙏😊
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You are right Arun. All of us can make a difference in our small and unique ways. We should always keep on trying. Who knows whose heart we may touch.
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Exactly! 😊👍
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Amazing, interesting and sad about missing children, thank you for share Trishikh-
Keep well.
Elvira
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Thank you so much Elvira. Always a treat to receive your comment. Yes missing children are a sad part of human reality.
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You are welcome, Trishikh.
Thank’s.
Elvira
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I had tears in my eyes, Trishikh.
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I am glad to have been able to bring forth an emotionally enriching experience for you.
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The person who is seen as ignorant and despised on one side is the tyrant who thinks he is human on the other. The world is unjust and human trafficking should be considered a very serious crime. It was like I traveled there with your story.
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Thank you so much for your thoughtful comment. I treasure your feedback. Am so thankful that you cherish the character of Boloram.
I have been liking so many of your posts, however, every time I click like on any of your posts, it removes the like the very next moment. I request you to check your settings so that many of us can like your posts.
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I have the same problem and I have to like twice. Technically I have no idea how to solve it. Thank you.
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Hope you can sort it out. I have liked your posts so many times, and unfortunately the likes do not show.
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This happens with me too 😀
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Those are the forgotten children, whom we, living in affluence and ignorance conveniently overlook, pretending to ourselves of having succeeded in making the world a better place, so we can sleep smugly and satisfied at night.
Again you have touched my heart with your story about the limitlessness of human kindness even under the most degrading circumstances, without expecting gratitude or rewards.
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Man is indeed capable of selfless goodness. There is something in humans which sets us apart from other creatures. Yet we are capable of equally cruel as well.
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মানুষ কমই আছে। বাকি সব প্রানিদের ও অধম।
In fact number of true human are very less. Rest all worst than beasts.☺️
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I think it is easier to feed the beasts within us rather than encourage the angles in our hearts.
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You are absolutely right.
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Those statistics are horrifying. I’m glad there are heroes out there doing something about it, as in your story.
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Indeed Wallace, the statistics are really shocking. As you rightly say, there are many who are fighting against it though. Thank you for your lovely comment.
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It is touching story Trishikh, and so sad about so many kids missing still happening till today. It reminds me of a movie called Lion, it is about an Indian kid who lost in a train looking for his brother, he is almost sold but finally he is adopted by a family in Australia. Great story Trishikh, i wonder how you come up with amazing story every week. Your inspiration is never dried.
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Dear Wayan, I am so thankful for your lovely comment and constant encouragement. Yes, ‘Lion’ in an amazing book made into a movie. It is also a true story, hence more appealing. Unfortunately human trafficking is still a big problem in a modern world like today.
I try not to think much and start writing on any topic or idea or word and the story slowly forms. There are simply too many topics to write on. There is a story everywhere and in everything. We just need to try to find out about it.
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Yes Trishikh, i hope in the future no more human trafficking so they can live happy and pursue their dream.
That is true writer start to write and not think too much. I think my head is insensitive with abundance ideas that my eyes and ears can find every day. Yeah i need to work on it. Thank you for your words Thrisikh. I look forward to your next amazing and inspirational stories.
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You are one of the few persons with the purest heart that I have met Wayan. I am happy to have you as a friend. I too wish and pray for human trafficking to Stop. I am also sure that you will be able to write down a lot of your ideas. Always keep writing and never stop. Your existing stories already give me much joy.
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Thank you Trishikh you made my day. I am so happy to be your friend. I read your answers to your followers, you are very humble person, there is not many intelligent and highly educated persons who are incredible down the earth as you. Yes i will keep writing since i enjoy it and it is also the way to heal myself. Thank you Trishikh.
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Let us hope so.
🙏😊
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I too hope so Arun.
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Another powerful story! The situation that continues of slavery and sex trafficking, is so dark and sad. It is part of why do the daily work I do…..to end all of the dark’s agendas, racism, inequality etc that exists right now on this planet. Thanks for posting this important message in the midst of your skillful story telling.
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Thanks Katelon. As I have previously said, I really admire the work that you are doing. You words encourage me much to keep on writing.
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You’re a wonderful and powerful writer. I’m glad you continue to share your stories. They are entertaining as well as very informative and educational.
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Your appreciation gives me much encouragement Katelon. Am glad that you not only find my stories entertaining but informative and educational as well. Thank you so much for the lovely comment.
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Amazing story..
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Thank you so much. Appreciation is always a big encouragement to my writing efforts.
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Good for you, Boloram. Very very good!
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I agree Patrick, but sometime I wonder, Boloram continued to be a human Bullock, couldn’t the villagers do something to better his living. This this might be what he wanted to keep on working in the fields and just live with dignity.
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you are so right! I want better things for Boloram but the world is better for him being here.
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It isn’t easy to weave a creative and compelling human tale around a difficult topic, but you have done so very well, Trishikh. The bullock and the child illuminate the story and suggest the horrors that have, in this instance, at least, been prevented. Fiction and facts, art and polemics, are skillfully fused.
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Dear Annie your words mean a lot to me. I only wish I had more time and could write more. Right now I balance writing between a hectic (but rewarding in itself) job and a family life (which is also good.) I want to leave behind a legacy of stories in my lifetime. I pray to God to always give me the strength and encouragement to keep on writing for many more years to come.
I think all of us need to address and be aware of sensitive topics. We should do our best to atleast create awareness on them, and I have chosen the ancient means of storytelling. You are right it is not easy to address these issues both in real life and in the creative field. Am glad that I have found out a little way to contribute.
Always treasure your feedback. They give me so much to think.
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I certainly agree about creating awareness of sensitive topics. I try to do that with many of the issues I address in nonfiction on my blog.
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Yes Annie you are doing a great job too.
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You are so generous with your visits, Trishikh! I am deeply appreciative.
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My pleasure Annie. Just a little way in which I can support too. Though I could never be as responsive as you are towards my work. You have been gifted with the Talent of Encouragement.
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I’m glad you brought this global crime to light.
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Thank you so much for being in solidarity with this global problem. Always treasure and appreciate your comments.
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Your stories are always intriguing, showing both sides of human nature, and written in beautiful style.
It is disturbing, how many children disappear every year, not only in India. In Scandinavia prostitution is mostly legal (for adults, not minors), but still there is human trafficking of young girls and boys for illegal sex, often from Russia and the Baltics.
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Dear Stella, this is indeed a massive global problem. All of us need to spread as much awareness as possible. Thank you for your constant support to my writing efforts. Treasure your comments on my stories. They give me much encouragement.
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Thank you for a powerful story!
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You are most welcome Vanya..so that you this little tale of mine.
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Beautiful writing, Trishikh, on a sad subject.
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Thank you Dawn. Yes, this is indeed a grave and sad topic. A scar on the face of humanity.
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Absolutely!
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Enthralling! Trafficking in our country is one of the biggest concern, through your story you have nicely portrayed it.
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Thanks Anamika. You are right, human trafficking is a very ancient and alarming problem of human society, not only in India but perhaps in every country of the world.
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How disturbing those numbers of human trafficking. How sad!
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Yes Verena, the numbers are really disturbing.
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heart of gold….
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A “Heart of Gold” indeed, an apt description of Boloram.
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Thank you so much for sharing my story in your blog.
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Sadness and hope interwoven. A landscape of brutal labour and daily drudgery lit up by glimpses of beauty and light.
The description of the material world and the underlying moral idea is brought into line. The landscape itself can be read as a moral parable, or, the moral idea is translated into palpable reality. Matter and spirit are just two faces of the same reality.
When I read your stories, dear Trishikh, I first follow the minute description of the material reality, in all its incredible richness, and then reality enfolds itself like a flower, and reveals a plethora of meaning. Then the meaning, just enfolded, opens new realms of reality. So, layer after layer reveals itself, and the story told becomes a kind of vivid or graphic philosophy.
Obviously, you are talking philosophy by way of telling stories. Instead of the abstract words and notions of philosophy you are using the concrete words of storytelling, actions express ideas, persons are the bearers of values. As a result, you show a world full of meaning. Whatever happens, it is full of sense. Nothing happens without a reason.
The poor and afflicted human beings in your stories must not necessarily know what is exactly the meaning of their lives, in their lives: suffice it to say, there is meaning, and that makes life glorious, even the most humble one.
Great story, great narration, great idea, great outcome.
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Dear Peter,
Once again your thoughtful comment has left me speechless. You have correctly analysed that moral wisdom and philosophy are the cornerstone to my stories.
I agree with you and believe that stories can teach us so much. They leave an everlasting impression in our being. Though we grow old, will still remember many of the childhood tales that we read or heard. Even when we forget the stories, somehow the teaching in them stays with us forever.
Have a great day, dear friend. Treasure your beautiful thoughts.
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Trafficking and prostitution are the age-old practices that despite several social and legal reforms continue to exist in one form or another. Human bullock is a story that brings out such sensitive issues in a captivating manner. Thank you, Trishikh for one more interesting story. I liked the characters of Chutki and Boloram. Human bullock or human rickshaw, in this age of science and technology should be done away with as soon as possible.
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Dear KK, you are very right, these evil practices perhaps will always stay with us. We just have to device better ways to cope with them, reduce them, and make them more human
Thanks t liking the characters of Chutki and Boloram, they are very dear to my heart.
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You’re always welcome 😊
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Dear Trishikh,
just let me add an afterthought, goes spinning round and round my head. Stories tell the truth, that‘s the thing. They do not only tell the truth, but they explain themselves. Proof: even the youngest children understand stories. You tell a story to a three-year-old, a story about king and queen and princess and witch and dragon, and the three-year-old immediately understands the story. The three-year-old never has met with a dragon or a king, but he knows without saying what it is all about. So stories share in the vast pool of common human knowledge. Stories do so, philosophy does not. Who understands philosophy? Philosophy may tell a truth, or may not. Mostly it‘s just flimsy speculation. Who is Marx, who is Nietzsche? Do they tell the truth? One may doubt, one cannot know, the one talks this way, the other talks the other way round. But Grimm‘s Fairy Tales, they tell the truth. For example, they tell the obvious truth that the evil witch will cause a great amount of harm, but in the long run she must be punished, and she will be punished. As to Marx and Nietzsche, they leave behind them an endless row of mass graves. Because of a Fairy Tale, no skull has been broken, ever. So, people do not love stories just because they are entertaining: they love stories, because stories are the harbingers of truth. In a story, the most complicated truth can be told in a few simple words. Philosophy uses the most complicated words to tell no truth at all. It‘s all invention speculation idea. But the stories know the truth. A witch is a witch a king is a king and a dragon is a dragon. And people wish to hear those stories because deep in their hearts they know there are such things as witches and dragons and kings and princesses in the world. In your great story of the human bullock, there is a king there is a princess, and the king is in the disguise of a simpleton and is nevertheless a king, and the princess is a pauper girl and is a princess nevertheless, and she is saved, at the very end. That’s the way it goes, thats the law. That‘s the way the world goes round, and whoever tries to block that way, will be punished in the end, not by the world, but he ends by punishing himself.
Sorry, too many words. Have a nice and productive week, dear friend.
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Dear Peter, you have raised such a pertinent point. Philosophy vs story – and you have rightly spotted my humble effort to marry the two.
I too agree with you, that there can be very little charm in philosophy for everyone, but stories on the other hand appeal to us all. Every those who do not like to read, would love to atleast hear a good story.
A lot of ancient Indian wisdom, or for that matter wisdom all over the world for thousands of years was passed down the generations through stories, sometimes only told by mouth and not even captured in any other medium.
Thank you dear old friend for taking the thought process to such a deep level.
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An excellent story shedding light on the horror of human trafficking and that heroes can still be found to do right.
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Thank you so much for liking this story of mine. Treasure your comment and support. Your appreciation gives me much encouragement.
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Superb!! Nice one Trishikh
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Thank you so much. Always treasure your appreciation. So d
Glad that you liked the story.
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Trishikh Sir,
Namaskar!
Gone through this story which is fact in reality. I admire you ☺️🙏
You have an extraordinary talent to present a fact with a touch of lively description. I knew about human trafficking, because it is always been reported in media, but without appropriate actions to stop the menace.
This happens due to lack of awareness, lack of ethics in and around society, states, Nations.
Earning money unethical way, then spending for unethical purposes.
Is this the moral of human?
Where we are? Where?
Are we better than animals?
Your posts are excellent because it may make sense to the readers to be aware of these mischievous deeds as going on. Must be stopped.
After a long time, I got chance to read your post 😊
Looking for next.
Take care. Regards 🙏😊
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Dear Arun, thank you so much for this thoughtful comment. You have really taken the time to express your thoughts on the subject of human trafficking. You are right it is a non-human act. In fact I would also like to say it is a non-animal or non-existential act, yet it is perhaps the oldest trade in the world. Humans have always traded humans, as slaves, as partners, as labour, as sport, for torture, for reproduction, for what not.
I am so glad that my stories give you so much thoughtful insight on certain subjects. I really appreciate your constant support.
Sorry for the delayed reply, as I was mostly ofline and travelling for the past 2 weeks.
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Thank you so much. I had been on travel too for about 10 days. Regards
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Travel is perhaps the best teacher. We can learn so much from travelling.
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Yes I agree 💯 percent
My job was all India transferable and as such I had been posted in different regions of the country. I therefore learned a lot from people of that state or region.
It’s a nice meeting with you here in this world of blogging.
I stay in Kolkata.
May be we will meet someday.
I would be delighted to see you infront of me.
Regards 😊🙏
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Yes Arun, it would indeed be my pleasure to meet with you someday. Right now I do not live in Kolkata, but keep on visiting the city now and then. If God wills we will certainly meet.
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Thank you!
Regards😊🙏👍
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The punchline is a shocking fact, but I missed the happy ending for Boloram, but if you take into account that there are more and real Bolorams, I’m probably still plowing this example. A wonderful story, although dramatic, warmly welcomed /I just finished reading today, sorry 😁/
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I am so glad that you read my story. I always appreciate and look forward to your likes and comments. There are more human slaves today in the world, compared to any given time in history. This is a very big and alarming problem that all of us atleast need to be aware of.
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you don’t have to look far, we bloggers do all the work by writing articles, posting photos on portals, for which we pay, and Google pays them a lot of money, and we get lousy scraps, i.e. leftovers from your table! Well, unless someone strips naked, makes a session, then he will also receive a good amount of money for sensation, and even a celebrity will stay, otherwise bloggers are pockets punchers and figuratively Boloramy.😂🤣
I will also add that I read your every story, otherwise how would I know if Like is worth, that’s why I don’t visit a lot of blogs, because I don’t have that much time, but I really like yours
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I am really thankful for your interest in my stories. Much of what you have said is correct. The entire world is out to make a profit. Very few are there who genuinely practice their art without thinking about financial gain at the cost of others.
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🤔😢
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From a travel perspective, I like to know both the good. and bad about a country before I visit. As for India, I’m now more aware of the matter of child exploitation there which makes me think how I might assist to solve this problem.
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Child trafficking is a big problem in India. There are many good NGOs that are working on Child Rights, however, the problem is just so massive that it perhaps needs every one of us to act, or atleast be aware and spread the awareness.
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🙏 plz follow me and my blog like and me followed you blog ❤️🙏
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Sure, I have already started following you and liking your posts.
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❤️❤️❤️🙏🙏 most welcom sir
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Beautiful story. Child kidnapping and trafficking is growing problem in Pakistan as well😥
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Oh yes! Pakistani children are a victim of this problem too.
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Thanks, Trishikh, for sharing another wonderful story that highlights, the persistent understated heroism of an outsider; and, the endemic tragedy of people trafficking.
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So happy that you liked my story Goff. Always a pleasure to hear from you. Treasure your appreciation.
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Great story. Happy Writing My Friend.
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Thank you Goff. My best wishes to you as well.
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Thanks. Have a wonderful day My Friend.
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A great day to you too Goff.
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Cheers. Stay Safe My Friend.
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love ❤️ for you blog sir ❤️
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Assolutamente imperdibile anche se la lettura provoca profondo dolore.
Grazie molte.
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Thank you so much. I treasure your appreciation.
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Quite wellcome!
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I reread the part where Chutki woke up in the van gagged and bound.Thereafter the crudely peeled mangoes giving away the culprits. My question may seem simplistic but at first I thought Chutki might have used her native intelligence and strewn the mango pieces to leave a trail. But that couldn’t be since she was bound. Then who left the mango peels? The culprits in a sozzled state? Intrigued to know the answer.
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Dear GC, yes Chutki’s hands were tied at the wrist in front of her. Her palms and fingers were free. Though she was gagged her eyes were also not covered. With the help of the light that came through the hole she could see the mangoes wobbling on the floor. She must have torn the mango pieces herself, with her hands and fingers, though it was bound at the wrist.
I must thank you for this lovely comment. You really took the time to carefully read and enjoy my story. Nothing can give me more joy.
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A wonderful piece of writing. Please know how good your articles are.
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Thank you so much. Your appreciation always gives me great encouragement. So glad that you liked the story.
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Always! Keep up your good work.
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Thank you so much. I treasure your encouragement.
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I always appreciate your posts and comments; it is good having you as such an internet friend.
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I too treasure out friendship.
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Thanks for your continued kindness.
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You are most welcome. You deserve every bit of it.
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Thank you very much.
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I’ve never really understood how someone can do that to another human being! That’s treating other people like cows or goats and it’s soooo sad.
Well written, of course
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Dear Mariana, sadly human beings are capable of many vile things. We are also capable of doing good, but the darkness in us is very strong force most of the times. Thank you so much for liking my writing, my story.
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You’re welcome and keep writing. I’m glad that most of the human population can overcome their bad side and do good things
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Very true, good always triumphs.
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Thank you very much
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You are most welcome.
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Reblogged this on The Writing Life.
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Dear Craig, thank you so much for re-blogging my story. Always appreciate your constant support to promote my stories in your blog.
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Öyküleriniz çok güzel. İngilizcem yetersiz. Google ile tercüme ederek okuduğum için hissettiklerimi tam yazamıyorum. harika yazıyorsunuz. Sayfamı okuduğunuz için Teşekkürler.
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Dear Alev, I must take an extra effort to thank you for reading my stories using Google translate. Though you do not know English sufficiently, yet find my stories fascinating to take the time to translate and read them is one of the most kind gestures one can ever find. Thank you so much for liking this story as well.
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🥰
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So true!
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It was definitely a thought provoking read for me.
Thank you 😊
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Thank you so much. So happy that you found my story thought provoking. There is no better reward than to impress someone’s mind.
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😄
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Thanks for your likes of my articles on Daniel; I appreciate your kindness, very much. Please continue all that you do with your deeply conscientious writing.
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You are most welcome. It’s my pleasure to ready and like your articles. I am really honoured with your appreciation for my stories.
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Thank you. I am very pleased to have you as one of my blog friends.
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The pleasure is equally mine.
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Beautiful piece as always!
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And always a pleasure to receive your appreciation.
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The way you weave emotions skin by skin ,reaches our heart , It’s beautiful piece of creative writing , Thanks for this🌺❤️✨
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Your kind words brings tears of joy to my eyes. So happy that you liked the way I convey emotions in my stories. You are most welcome.
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Keep Writing ,so that we can check on our raw emotions ☺️😀
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It would be my pleasure to do so. 🙂
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I am caught up with an imagination – some of the characters in your tales could be combined in the making of an epic Bollywood movie. How about introducing your tales to someone like Amir Khan – master of bringing characters to life on the silver screen!
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That would be really nice, if someday, someone decides to make a movie out of one of my stories. For now my focus is only of writing these stories with my heart. The next logical step should be publishing them in a book. Have not worked much on publishing, but hopefully someday I will release a book.
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Its also my dream to sum up my travel features in a Table Book form – but I dont see realization of this dream. Good luck to you.
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A dream is the first step, which you have already attained. Writing is the second stage, which you are doing marvelously. Bringing out the book is the next logical step, with many challenges, I sure that you would find out a way.
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What a well written and relevant story !
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So glad that you liked this story also. I was also very contended in writing this little tale.
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I am bit behind as last week was very busy. These are book contents.
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Well my stories are going nowhere. Look forward to you reading them when you have a little ease of a time. I know many of my stories could be books in itself. I feel it is perhaps easier to write a novel where we have so much space to insert content. Writing a good short story is always a bit harder, as you always are in the dilemma what to keep and what to eliminate, however my herat’s desire is to write and promote short stories.
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