Abstract: this post is macabre and creepy. I do not recommend reading to people sincerely emotional. I got pictures in my mind that they persecuted all the time, I have not spoken before to emphasize, preferring to speak of the moments of hope. But now it is time to pull them out. Who knows, telling frees ...
These pictures are from the hands.
first image that comes from reading a newspaper article made with the guys in the center of the colonial school. A man without a hand, right, and lying. Instead of holding a bandage approximately bloody bandages. Suffering face but happy. The paper reports the story of this man, a loyal devotee of some goddess (I forget which) on the edge of fanaticism. Indeed, beyond fanaticism: to offer a gift to the goddess has succeeded in cutting off a hand with an ax and give it a sacrifice to the goddess. Supreme act of devotion and set aside, according to him. Act of folly, in our view (and here we are not "western people" as I often use, but "we, children, Akanksha volunteers and teachers who read the article").
Another picture. A man who asks me for alms, the station, while I'm waiting for the train. In one hand he has a shot for the money, the other holds it next to the glass and in practice does not start from the wrist, but by half 'of the arm. I mean 'has a more arms' short, but not 'this and' the hand hanging, 'cause there's no' the bone inside. And it 'full of bubbles. The keep in sight next to the glass of almsgiving: it is asking for her money. Third
image on television one night obsessively repeating the same footage of a complaint against the police. You see a man with his arms raised and one of the two hands completely mangled and bleeding, as if a bomb exploded in his hand. Then the police's shooting at you. It 's a witness and accused the police of brutality, capable of firing at a man and disarming with his hands (the hand) raised. I do not understand what happened because they speak in Hindi, but this image of man with their arms up with one hand destroyed is repeated continuously.
All these hands are missing or torn impress me and haunt me.
And since then I started looking at the hands of the people of Mumbai. We are all well-kept hands, ingioellate, ringed. Some of the designs with henna, some with enamel on the nails. Others are the opposite: missing fingers, hands full of sores, hands that have become the balls with some protuberances like fingers. One child Akanksha has 6 fingers, two inches. There are people instead of a hand that is completely lacking: we see quite often people without an arm, especially older men.
I never thought the good fortune to have two hands. As I write I touch your fingers to the keyboard with one another, we are all, beat the keys fast, safe, healthy. The
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