The glass walls of hell…

First published on Times of India on 21st June 2011
I was born in a family of five. My first memories are of me fighting and pushing my siblings with my small pink paws as I scurried for a place against my Mother’s warm belly to suckle her milk. This was paradise I thought. When I could see a bit more clearly, I took in the outside world. There was a ray of sunshine that fell on all our pink heads and warmed up the 4 feet by 4 feet pigsty in which we stayed. Our concrete nest. Within weeks I wanted to stand up on all my fours and walk. I trod over my brothers and sisters, jostling for more space. My paradise was a lot smaller than what it was a few weeks ago. But, it still was paradise, so long as my Mother was with us, so long as I could feel the warm milk moisten my small throat. We played our own little games, the siblings would fall in a heap on our Mother. This was our routine. The four feet by four feet pigsty was our Shangri-la.

One day the door to our pigsty flung open. An eerie shadow was cast on us. I was somewhere on the lower end of the family heap and I jostled against my podgy siblings for a prime slot, a vantage point, to see the happenings around me, to see this strange looking creature peer over us. My Mother looked distraught and her eyes bore despondency. Her eyes revealed an endless well of hell as she gazed at the strange creature hovering over all of us. She murmured feebly, “ Man”. Intuitively I knew our Shangri-la was crumbling. My Mother looked at all of us, one last time. This creature we call Man, tied a noose around her neck and dragged her out of the sty. She resisted to no avail. The door to the sty creaked noisily, then, there was pin drop silence for a few seconds. From my vantage point I could see with horror what Man was doing to my Mother. Man had pushed my Mother to the hard concrete ground, he banged her head till she bled profusely, and then he took an old, rusted, blunt knife and slit her throat. She still clung on to life and she cried in horror. My Mother was resilient, she did try to fight him off. My Mother had no knife, no dagger, no sword, she used her legs, in vain. She did not fear for her own life, she feared for ours. She felt almost ashamed of her weakness as Man cut through her entrails as she continued to drip in blood. We watched our Mother die. She died when she was stabbed at the heart. One last time, then we waited for death. Death, like an uninvited guest would trudge in at any time. Our Shangri-la was living hell, it was the paradise for the dead. We wished we were dead, we already were. Ironically, our fate is such, we were born dead. We were born in an abattoir.

“If slaughterhouse had glass walls everyone would be vegetarian” said Sir Paul McCartney rightly. PETA India has taken a video that reveals the torture involved while breeding, transporting and killing chicken, pigs, cows, sheep and other animals in Indian slaughterhouses. This is the first video that has been taken to expose the mammoth amount of cruelty that these animals face in India. I urge all of you to watch this video. The video reveals the agony of animals and the satanic behaviour of man. PETA India website quotes “ At abattoirs, chickens are often scalded to death, and pigs are repeatedly stabbed in the heart as they scream out in pain. Cows, goats and sheep have their throats cut – often with dirty, blunt knives – in front of their terrified companions. Many are skinned and dismembered while they’re still conscious. Fish are often mutilated or crushed as they suffocate to death “.

Please watch this video and more importantly please try to implement the message at the end of this video. I am confident you will, if you feel the pain after watching this video. No matter how much you progress, you must learn to treat animals with compassion. This is but a basic requirement and one which then accords you the right to be called human.

The greatness of a nation can be judged by the way its animals are treated. – MK Gandhi

Video courtesy – PETA India


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