SILENCES OF DARKNESS

             

       As I go to sleep, as I put my head to rest; as my head hits the pillow which messes my hair; I lose myself in the labyrinth of slumber and dreams that make no sense at times but still make me wish they were true. I sleep with aspirations and dreams of a seventeen year old. I sleep as my mind is filled with confusions and is scared about the future. I decide the end of my story every night and it changes- like every other thing that exists. Sometimes I am 81 and wrinkled and happily married. Sometimes I am 60 and alone and happy. Many a times I am not even 25 properly and it ends. Every night, before I sleep I create my story, I create scenarios in my head, I also in the process decide the fates of everyone else in my life; none of it with the slightest certainty. Some nights I am irrevocably in love with the idea of love, other nights I hate it with utmost passion. Sometimes I want to give back to the universe everything that it has given me and on other nights I want to shout at the top of my voice and tell it that its vastness doesn't bother me. Of course none of it actually happening. These are just mere musings of my mind but then again who is to ascertain that isn't the truth?

            The entire world is sleeping and silences are drowned in darkness. But it’s not the same inside my head. Everything resembles my art, my colour and my silences. It is at this hour that I truly belong to the world and yet feel the urge to leave everything and dive into the abyss of possibilities. Inside my head- it’s bright and colourful and the noisiest. And as soon as I close my eyes, darkness finally wraps me and cradles me to sleep. 

LONGUE VIE HUMANITY!

‘Finally, I was going to meet my friends after a long time. It’s going to be the usual chit chat and tea at our favourite café. I was leaving the house and mom was worried as usual. I assured her that I’ll return home before curfew time. She tells me to keep my cell on general mode and answer the phone whenever she calls or I’ll be grounded. I sigh and leave. Only if I had known that I am seeing her for the last time, I wouldn't have just sighed. I would have told her how much I love her, heck; I wouldn't have left the house. But that’s the thing about future; we are oblivious to it until it finally arrives. My body now lies on the pavement, blood spurting from it. I feel so helpless. Nothing is usual. They didn't ask me my name, my age or my religion; it didn't matter to them. They were here to kill and that’s what they did. Lying here on the pavement my last thoughts are of my mom trying to call me. Sorry mom, I won’t pick up the phone.’

-         My last thoughts as a terror victim

                      129 such lives never returned to their homes, back to their loved ones. The mere fact that they lived in a country whose government policies didn't appease a particular group made them victims of terrorism. People around the globe are sending their condolences to Parisians and display pictures are being changed. But the question is how many of us really understand the depth of the problems or is it just being done to join the bandwagon. People are taking sides: some are ignorantly supporting Paris while others are naively supporting Syria. Because it is not their battle, it is everyone’s battle. The real oppressor is terrorism. And terrorism has no religion or region. Of course people involved make it a matter of religious misogyny. The sole aim of terrorism is to dehumanize civilians and create fear. Of course my sympathy lies with Parisians but it also with the refugees who are dying for no fault of theirs. My sympathies lie with humanity because as far as I am capable of seeing, I see humanity being brutally killed and it’s time we fight to save it!! 

THE GREY CLOAK

           

           I think I started wearing the grey cloak from the time I became conscious of the thoughts of people around me. My skin had always been a spectrum of colors. And I think they despised it.Why wouldn't they? All of them were of the same color. All of them had a grayish tinge to their appearance. Acceptance, of course, was more important than an identity. Once i had donned the Gray cloak they embraced me. I felt safe.I was growing up, safely, inside the cloak. The cloak was gradually becoming a part of me. No one knew my reality. The responsibilities and the risks, the adventures and the dreams would come looking for me and would have to return empty-handed.I was indistinguishable from the grey crowd. I was letting them take me to where they all were heading towards- the end of a life that wasn't lived, the life that was only a reflection of regrets. It didn't mattered to me that I wanted to go in the opposite direction and it didn't mattered to them either. I was only hoping that the cloak shouldn't come off.If it did, they would abandon me. My own identity frightened me. I breathed and I thought the exhaled air would let out the secret. But also loved my colors, I didn't want to lose them. I was living merely as an ontological being. And I hated it.

            So I finally let my cloak fall. All of them gave a collective gasp. But I was not ashamed anymore. I felt euphoric and powerful. I looked them in the eyes and I saw mockery in some, respect in some others. None of it mattered to me anymore. I scanned them and I realized that there are some other people in the crowd who are different too. My cloak was obscuring their colors from me. Obviously some of them are still grey and some others are varying shades of the same color. I was finally free and happy.I was ready to take my own journey now. I decided to move ahead on my own path. Being different is not a crime. I've left the grey cloak far behind.

                   And I think all of us start wearing this cloak at some point in our lives. It doesn't matter whether you are 16 or 60, I urge you to let that cloak fall and let the true you taste freedom and happiness.