A Spool of Plastic Thread

Amita carried a big basket of fruits to sell it in the market. The first rain drop touched her bare hands which were holding the basket on her head. The rain slowly started to shed more drops of water. Amita’s basket was fully soaked and it started to tear. One fruit fell and the second and then all from the basket fell and rolled on the dirty mud. She put the torn basket away and begin to collect the fruits. She thought “Oh God! The basket is of no use. Where will I keep these fruits..?”

Amita saw a blue plastic bag flying on the road. She caught it and gathered the fruits in it. Amita went back home. Amita’s grandma cooked some rice and curry for the lunch. When she saw Amita, Grandma got the bag filled with fruits and gave a cloth for her to wipe as she was drenched.

Amita’s grandma had four goats. Amita and grandma survived on the money earned from selling the goat’s milk and fruits in the market

Amita said “Grandma, the fruit basket was torn so I had to leave it on the road, but I found this bag”.

Grandma uttered “P L A S T I C B A G”.

Amita saw her neighbors and everyone in the village used these kinds of bags to carry the fruits, vegetables and almost everything. She even saw girls carrying the books in these bags to school. Snacks and chocolates wrapped in these bags. The bags came in different colors like white, blue, black and even see through ones.

On a fine day she carried the plastic bag filled with groceries – rice, dhal and some veggies. The bag couldn’t carry much weight so the handle torn. Like the other day, on the road she found a black plastic bag. Amita tucked all the items into it and left the torn bag on the road.

Few days later when she crossed the same way, she saw the plastic bag she left on the other day. But this time there were more plastic bags with garbage in it. Amita simply crossed that dirty pile of bags and garbage.

Years passed, Amita was married and she had a little daughter. She went to visit her Grandma. From distance she heard her grandma sobbing. Amita ran into the house and saw grandma sob and speak with a veterinary doctor.  Amita asked “Why are your crying and why the village veterinary doctor is here??”

Grandma replied “Three of our goats died yesterday and now we have only one”.

Amita with a sad face said “Why? What happened to the three goats?”

The doctor showed the blue crumpled fabric like thing in his hand and said “the goats ate this….P L A S T I C B A G . It got twisted and stuck in their stomach so it could not survive. Now, three of your goats and many other goats and cows have died in the village”.

Grandma cried to Amita and said “We have to do something to save these animals”.

Amita walked back to the road where the pile of plastic bags stayed with swarms of mosquitoes around the collected dirty water. An idea clicked in her mind. But at first she hesitated later holding her breath she started collecting the dirty plastic bags one by one. There were many. With the help of her friend Medha, washed the bags with clean water and soap. Then they dried it.

She called some more friends for help from the village. They volunteered.

Amita and her friends cut the bags into strips and rolled it into a ball like spool of yarn. Amita taught them how to turn it into a purse using crochet needles. All their hands were busy making magic turning the strips of plastic thread into a purse. By morning, they made 100 purses.

In the beginning, people in the village laughed at them for this dirty bags idea.

Amita took it to the market to sell it. The blue, black and white colored purses are displayed. Ladies saw those but was little hesitant to buy. A woman came and gave the money for the purse and took a blue one from the display. She showed it her to friend and the other ladies started buying. Soon everyone wants one.

Amita filled her own purse with the money she got from selling the purses. She went back to her grandma and gave all the money and said “Grandma, this money would do for buying a goat”.

The next day when she crossed the same road, the piles of plastic bags were lesser.

Amita smiled and said to herself that “One day it will be less and soon it will be gone. My village would be more beautiful”

Moral: Plastic we use tortures the Mother Earth and the animals which lives in it. Please don’t be a litter bag, help to keep your city clean. Be a part of SOLUTION not a part of POLLUTION.

                                                      SAY NO TO PLASTICS