I've always had this image of a perfect Indian village in my mind. Its not entirely formed by my stay in my father's ancestral place or the trips I've taken with friends and family. Its a mixture of all that plus the images from the novels I adore. Soothing shades of tall trees, fresh smell of grass, small ponds with water lilies, all-forgiving  rivers and acres and acres of fields (rice paddy, wheat, mustard seed, vegetables- the crop doesn't matter). All the years that I've been away from my country, I've kept it close to my heart. The beauty and the serenity - but have I really given a thought about the real rural India, where people struggle for basic needs, where illiteracy is still at large, where prejudice and inequality still rules, where 'the wild beasts' lurk in the shadows waiting for the prey?

I feel indignant and ashamed.