The current state of distress bugging the land’s diaspora cannot be described meaningfully in mere words. The urbanites may have brought it on them by their myriad indiscreet acts while the rustics have it handed out to them as a legacy. The former sections in the population may find avenues to assuage their stressful life by various distractions based on entertainment including club membership, viewing movies, celebration of events such as wedding anniversaries, birthdays and so on while the rustics are stuck with hours of suffering, anxiety, agony and the feeling of helplessness, particularly in the face of volatile monsoons, resulting in crop loss, not to forget the compulsion of raising loans to survive till better days (achche din) come their way. Relocating from their home in the village to any city has only found those who have moved in a situation of ‘between the devil and the deep sea’ as it were.
The vote-seekers fascinating themselves by describing the rustics as the country’s backbone in their harangues before their captive crowds seem to have shifted gears by betraying the faith that village folk exhibited for too long. Unarguably, that backbone is in a state of tatters, worsening the distress in the face of promises by the netas vanishing into thin air.
