THE PRINCESS IS NO MORE!

 The Princess is No More!

It was a bright sunny morning when Sahir awoke drowsily from his deep slumber. He had been dreaming about a ship heaving and mounting the waves of the high seas. And so his bedspread became the waves and he found himself atop a pile of pillows. “What? Where? Oh, thank goodness!” he sighed in relief. “I thought I was going to drown for sure!”

He brushed his teeth quickly, then ran down the stairs, two steps at a time, to the kitchen for breakfast. His father was busy reading the paper; his mother was packing the lunch box for him to take to work. 

“Sahir, what plans have you for today?” queried Dev. “I hope you are spending your holidays doing something worthwhile.”

“Yes, Dad, I am.” replied Sahir, a jam-filled chapatti roll, halfway to his mouth. “Uncle Miguel is taking me to see a Princess.”

“A Princess? Where, beta?” questioned his mother, in a surprised tone. As far as she knew, there were no kings or queens in Goa, so how could there be princesses? 

“Oh, Uncle says she’s in Candolim and is not a real princess like in human, Ma.” Sahir grinned. “She’s just a stranded ship.”

“Oh, well, your Uncle friend is weird to take you to see a stranded ship and call it a princess.” Asha shrugged as she left the room to find her husband’s tiffin bag.

In an hour’s time, Uncle Miguel was honking at the gate. Sahir darted off the porch, waved farewell to his mother and off they went – to see the Princess!

As the car sped along the wide road to Candolim, Uncle told Sahir the story of the ship and how it had gotten stranded near the shores. “No one, not even the owners, want her now.” he complained. 

“Well, then why doesn’t the government do anything about it?” Sahir had read some news about the River Princess in the local papers and so he was aware that the ball was in the government’s court, so to speak. 

“Yes, they can, but it will be some time before that happens. As you know, our politicians do not move a limb, let alone a ship, until its too late.”

Sahir looked out of the window, sighing, as he saw the fallow fields and the building complexes. Goa was changing and he didn’t like what was happening to her! He knew that it was up to his generation now to undo the damage before it was too late. As he mused on what he wished he could do, the car reached their destination and the two got out and made their way across the sandy shoreline.

In the distance, the huge ship stood, slightly tilted to one side as if it had a limp. There was a deep gash in her middle. Like a wounded soldier, she lay on the battlefield of the dark sea, pleading for a decent burial. Sahir was moved with pity but alas! what could he do?

“Uncle Miguel, why doesn’t some scrap dealer break her into tiny bits and haul her away?” He had seen a friend’s car disposed thus and this ship was just like a mega-car, made of steel and such.

“Yes, but not an ordinary scrap dealer, unfortunately. Some big scrap company will have to get the contract before even a gram of metal is moved.” said the pessimistic environmentalist.

“I have an idea!”cried the little boy, excitedly. “I shall write a letter to the editor of our local paper and maybe someone will listen to me.”.

The next day, Sahir penned his first letter to the editor of his local newspaper and waited with bated breath for it to be published. Two days went by and the dejected boy was certain that it was doomed for the dustbin. But on the third day, his mother hurried to his room with the paper in her hand. And there was Sahir’s letter – IT WAS THE STAR LETTER OF THE DAY. 

“Beta, I am so proud of you. I hope this will get some heads thinking.” Asha exclaimed, hugging Sahir tightly.

Now, its been a year since that happened and the heads did get thinking. A scrap company got the contract and the Princess was hauled away, piece by little piece. The villagers had a beach party with bonfire and fireworks the night the final piece was taken away and pretty soon, they were able to do good business on the beach and fishing boats could be seen once again in the dark deep sea.

Sahir carefully cut and preserved his letter in a scrap book along with all the other letters he had written that year. He was determined to change Goa, one simple star letter at a time!