The Hell

Gul’s dry, almost lifeless tongue was hanging out of his mouth. His eyes were rolled backward. He looked weak, pale, lifeless, and begging for water, his prayers went unanswered. Badri, his sister, repeated his pleadings even more forcefully as she held him in her arms, rocking him back and forth while attempting to reach Sardar Timur’s guard on a humane level, desperately trying to gain some sympathy, or even maybe empathy, which she knew that despite her sliver of hope, was futile.

The panchayat proceedings were suddenly paused. Badri and Gul were removed from the hall without being told what was happening. They were separated from their parents. The two siblings were brought to this hot, dirty, dark, and dingy room, away from the panchayat hall. It had been several hours since they were dumped here without any food or water.

The lone guard in the room was merciless. Badri’s desperate pleas had grown stronger with Gul’s waning strength, his progressively weaker and quieter whispers. She stroked his head gently while she continued to beg the unyielding guard.

“Give him some water please, otherwise he will die.”

“Why do I care? People die every day, and so will he.” The guard said with complete indifference. He seemed to view them as objects, not humans.