On the wake another terror attack in my home country, I stand speechless like millions of others. Not that I am incapable of doing something, not that I don’t want to. But somehow I don’t know what to do. I am, just like everybody else, is too flabbergasted and bereaved to think straight and clear; I am shit scared. There was a movie a couple of years back in hindi, names A Wednesday. The theme of the movie was what might happen if a common man decided to take the plunge himself, of putting all his frustration and disgust into action with the aide of modern information-quipped world. He scares the police and at the end, lets them know if a common man can catch the guards off a guard with élan, what might those with money, power and vicious intentions do.
I feel same today. To give a small wrap-up of my digested part of the story: NINE people died in a for-nothing blast in German Bakery at Pune, which I am told is akin to Coffee House of Kolkata. Three of them were a boy, his girlfriend and his sister. I happened to know the guy by name and probably met him on one or two occasions. An IIT-grad, he was working at JP Morgan and was having a valentino-dinner with his sweetheart and also his sister, whom he arranged to meet his girl. They noticed a bag, suspected something and asked a super-excited 15-year old Nepali boy, who worked at the place, to look for its owner. Like 90% of 15-years old would do, he opened it… to make it the couples last dinner together, the siblings last meet and the lad’s last jump of excitement. They died, all on-the-spot.
That’s my digest, because I knew the guy, because the sister was my friend’s sister’s classmate and the boy used to serve my friends regularly. Not that they were so close that it shattered my world, not even that a very close school friend is alive by chance today has woke me up from a sleep… I am just told by someone to wait for the day when he does not pick my call to say he is well, and the tone in which my ever-so-jubilant friend told me that, told me something. It made me weak in my knees. I understood we are alive by chance. Not that it was different yesterday. The death has just come closer to me, Arya Banerjee, no matter where I stay at this point of time. I can just sense it, though neither me nor any of my beloved is unwell or fighting a war, but they are just out and about… a reason enough for them to die. Yes, death. The darkness which apparently is so romantic that people fantasize about it, about heaven and hell and the deep-frying pans, and there are so many philosophy, theology and principles around it; can just engulf me or anyone without any rhyme or reason, and also not because a drunk celebrity was driving his land-rover over speed. It got a reason, which is the most unreasonable of all.
So what changes? We are still insecure as we were yesterday, we still walk with fear, board the bus with care so that we aren’t ran over, check our wallets every minutes we’re in a crowded train and bribe doctors to lawyers to policemen to let us live. There is just another added superpower which can do all of these. The problem is we don’t see them. It’s omnipotent and omnipresent. It’s not revered but is fearfully respected. It’s not preferred but in constantly evolving. It’s scary, it scared the hell outta me.
Leaves me wondering what are we waiting for? Not in the positive sense, but in the most powerless way of terms. Not the Rahman’s inspiring song, but just a plain ask: how long we are left to live? Why am I thinking of a Masters, why is X thinking of starting her company and why is Y so happy that Z texted him good morning with a heart-smiley at the end? Why do we love, why do we listen to Pete Seeger, why do we read Rumi? I know I am being the worst pessimist I could be, but my optimism is not leading me anywhere. I am loved but not powerful enough to shelter my beloveds, I love but not enlightened enough to see the light at the end of this tunnel. What if there is no end to this tunnel? What if the world turns into a fight club which fights for the sake of fighting alone? What if reasons fade thick and fast and we are derided to the lumps of masses Ray predicted in his books that may only live and die but can’t think? I will probably not live that long, I might see a brilliant innovation or two, a few more solar and lunar eclipses and a closer look at the mars, one more Google and few more Aamir Khan and Denzel Washington movies, but nothing makes me happier than I am sad today.
I kind of understood what differentiates a common man and a government or ruling body today. Rulers worry about what killed their men and how were they killed. We, the people, only care about, how long we live and when we die. It’s not conflict of interest, but just watching where the puck stops.
Because love is known to heal all wounds, I pray, in my cocoon, ashamed of my race.
Today, the hardest! Take care, and never meant more so.
My flowers have died an honest death, because they couldn’t withstand the cold
My emotions have soothed away, because it has read in black and bold
That my fortune, or anyone else's for that matter, is held ransom
for reason that I, and everyone else is unable to fathom.
Who goes for a toss and no matter where it lands,
Who calls the heads or who bats first,
Who was present or who missed the match
Cause the match is closed if those guys catch.
I am insecure, scared and brittle.
I knew enough to stay in my hole
I am awake till I keep my eyes open,
I am dead before I actually died.
Promise to be more optimistic in my next post. As for now, let me mourn, in peace.
