What have they done to me now?

What have they done to me now? 

Once a valley lashed with green paddy fields is now torn down. 

They have emptied away the mirth in me, have abused me, mutilated my pride and happiness with this thing called urbanization. Urbanization, how loathsome is the process!

I used to greet the people entering the city with the lush green paddy fields. People used to plunge inside me with their peasant foot at this time of the year and reap the fruits of success later on in autumn with lots of merry making. 

In the fall, when I was dry, children returning from school used to jump on me and sometimes they used to roll over me, that feeling of being able to give them a place of playground made me joyous. Cows, bulls, goats used to graze on me, on the fruits I used to bear. I could cater to the humans needs, be it to the school going kids or to the adults or to the cattle. A purpose-driven life I used to have then. How I miss that now, sigh!

Why does urbanization have to be unkind? Why?

I am deprived of the green paddy fields now. Instead huge concrete buildings have overtaken and been constructed on me. When the foundation was laid upon me for their buildings, it sucked the blood out of me. 

Boy, monstrous bull dozers started razing upon me. It was too painful. My neighbor screamed in pain when the monster came razing upon us, who would hear us? No one, our screams vanished among the loud rumble and screech of the monster and left us helpless. A huge truck runs over and splashes a poodle of dirt making me messier than ever.  Day and night, people in yellow helmets terrorize us and start hitting from the top, there is chaos everywhere, I can’t take rest nor go to sleep. My eyes have been hollow from the less sleep I have had since this thing called urbanization plundered us.

Every morning, I hate to be an audience to the angry office-goers. They come stamping on me, marring my beauty sleep, waking me up to loud curses. Every one of them curses me. Curse me for being muddy in the summer and dusty in the winter. If it rains then the matter becomes worse. I hate to see their frowning faces. At least the old ones are patient and tread on me carefully minding their feet, in case they slip over me. I can’t help but be a sincere spectator to the people crossing by. I pray for the rain not to pour down in the morning especially so that the people go to their workplace happy. 

When the sun shines, I become less muddy and I see smiles on peoples’ face and they cross by happily. When it rains, I just cannot imagine. Women cannot go about me in their pretty sleek heels, their heels dig deep inside me. Oh how it hurts! Their feet and dress becomes sore with the mud and people go on cursing and cursing. Looks like I have not done enough karma in my previous life to be cursed every minute this life. 

Who is responsible for things to be normal again? People themselves I believe. Had I been left as I was I would be a lot happier, people would have been less troubled. And I would not have been cursed as I am. And now I curse you, O urbanization!

P.S~~ Inspiration from the pathetic Olakha road