As I was growing up and coming nearer and closer to sounds that expressed progress, development, growth and the speech that declared advancement, evolution, movement.. They were so void and depressed I felt. I could clearly see behind mask of harmony what I could see. And it dawned on me, that may be we had gained in numbers and figures but we had lost much larger. We had lost a conversation. We had lost a dialogue. And that was only possible in the remote villages or the workers in a mill or similar milieu. That set the writing of Tingya. And this story is not a story of a farmer from Maharshtra. It can be a story of a farmer from Assam, Bengal, MP,UP and any part of India.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Posted by Sagar Nangare at 11:31 PM