The village had a certain sanctity. People there used to talk to each other with love and lived together like a family. As the construction of the six-lane road began, the village soon transformed into a large township. Old buildings were demolished, and the small shops of the local traders were ignored. The ancient banyan tree that provided shade on the road was cut down, making way for the expansion of the six-lane road. People were divided and became strangers to each other. Large bridges emerged on the road, and people rushed through the subways, moving fast on either side, becoming strangers. Those who once would come running to help at night when called, now stood across the bridges as unknown and distant figures, unseen and unheard.Before the construction of the big road, every day, she would park her bicycle near the banyan tree, talk to people, and head to work. But later, amidst she lost her identity. One day, under the flyover, her dignity and pride as a woman were violently torn apart, and nobody heard her screams. In the race for urban development, no one cared to notice the purity of the woman who was torn apart. The people, having discarded the rural essence of the place, poured into the rush once again. Vehicles continued to speed along the six-lane road, crisscrossing back and forth. In the progress of the land, her cries and tears went unnoticed. She became a stranger, unwanted.The village turned into towns, then into large states, and eventually into developed nations. Like two countries that required visas and passports to travel between, they created precise distances. These countries adhered to international laws, creating wounds in the hearts of people.
