Short Story: The Watcher Of Jarvi

By Shon Mehta

I have always watched over the people of my village. After all, whatever I am, it is due to them.

So when a new social worker landed in my village, Jarvi, I kept a close eye on him.

It is normal for visitors to Jarvi to be surprised by its backwardness. In the middle of nowhere, located miles away from civilization, the village has always been slow at making progress. The people and their ways have remained the same for centuries, with their medieval lifestyle, their medieval beliefs, and their medieval punishments.

“You deserve a much better life,” the young social worker told them. “I am here to make that happen.”

The people had heard that before. A few months back, another social worker had come with a number of promises, but had left the very next day, just like his predecessors. But this time it was different. The social worker’s enthusiasm, his positivity, and his sincerity gave the people hope. He stayed on for a month, then another. He surveyed things, asked the people about their problems, and made notes. Seeing him work relentlessly, day and night, even the elders of the village, who had lived through many such promises over the years, became less skeptical.

“I have worked out a plan to make it all happen soon,” the social worker finally announced in a gathering one evening. “Electricity, good roads, clean drinking water, and what not. No newborns will die. People from other villages will no longer have any qualms about marrying into your village.”

I looked around. Even in the dim light of a lantern, it was hard to miss the happiness on the villagers’ faces.

That is when I decided, it is time to take matters in my hand. I made a brief visit to meet the social worker later that evening, and nobody saw him ever again.

The social worker was not a bad person. I liked him too, but I had no choice.

We do not always remember who were good to us, but we never forget the ones who were bad to us. It is the people of this village who do not deserve to be happy. Why should my village be happy when they snatched happiness from me? It was a mere suspicion, I had never stolen anything. I had pleaded my innocence, again and again, but the whole village mocked me, they threw stones at me, and they kept throwing stones at me until I was dead.

Ever since, I have always watched over the people of this village. After all, whatever I am, it is due to them.

Photo Credit: Kanad