Talk.

I sit amidst the rubble of this place and I look around in sorrow and dismay. The love for fight had been replaced with the fight to survive. What preceded the present day is a sad-terrific story and I sit here to narrate you one, with the littlest of minutia.

Let the seasons mark their day of revival, let the nature shake their bones, let the storms of the sand choke their breathe until they know what they’re here for.

I saw mothers who carried their mobile phones in their soft-delicate hands, pressing each tab rationally, I saw fathers with their disgraceful speeches of how their colleagues went from becoming cheaters to top market leaders, I saw children glued to the camera- the most innocent had taken shelter beneath their blankets.

I see a fight for social acceptance where it is the need and want of the second to send out your fake delicate fancy yet crucial moments- or artificial moments. I see an atmosphere of a habit of glorifying social status, I see big helium balloons – who read beautiful yet unreasonable quotes. I see families who sat together to dine with the greatest of dining facilities, but none appreciated the culinary skills of the chef or the hospitality of their servants, they ate reasonably good amounts but their stomachs as well their mindsets were as hollow as hollow could be.

I drank my tea and realised there was nothing that could teach me more, no amount of justified reasonings could justify their thought processes, the richest were the poorest, and the poor envied to be the rich- not knowing being poor was a better state to breathe in.

I walked a little farther, and I saw a man carrying his daughter on his shoulders just like she should be carried with love and enthusiasm, the mother was walking side by side holding her mans’ hand, the one she loved completely and unconditionally. The man thanked his wife for being with him through the nights where he had no self-confidence, for being with her when he was going through the hardest of times. The wife whispered in his ears “you see it is the power of love and all it stands for, there is nothing it cannot dissolve and rescue, I have loved you and will continue to do so, because you liberate me of the boundations some had tied me with.”

Tears rolled down my face,I stood their watching the most happy people I imagined that could be.

As I crossed the road, I saw an old woman with her old man eating ice-cream and laughing, I wish I could learn how to laugh from them. I naturally smiled looking at them, they seemed to radiate joy and positivity. I asked myself if any of my relations would be ever as long as that, would be ever as effortless like that, would be ever as simple as that, would be ever as beautiful as that.

I went down the road and was greeted by a sweet smell of a calm and serene river. It stood in pride as a divider,  road divided as in a fork. I knew I had to carry on, I saw a child of 5 running in agony from street number 1 and I rushed towards him to calm him, but it seemed like he had been tormented way beyond his elastic point, he ran into the most peaceful waves of the river that flowed, he met his god and he was taken to peace. I called my death nearer or my liberation and I walked in the land of bullets and sirens. The men covered in black patrolled the area, the children’s cry had been exchanged for recruitment into the ever-growing terrorist groups. Mothers had been looked after in bedrooms or in the side corners, most ladies had given up their lives, and their beloved husbands had been transformed into living legends of horror for them. The bartered souls survived to recite their stories through their undone, unkempt, abandoned physique. A bullet passed through me, I wished for none in that moment, I hoped for none in that instant, I lived for none in that second and that is when I had the realisation that I belonged to the land of forgotten, I was not a living human, I was a ghost whose last wish had not been looked after and I was sent to fend for my soul. The men with their faces covered were heard talking, one of them slowly uncovered his face, it was bruised with deep cuts and scratches, flesh opened to the air now. I wondered who could injure the oppressor, the mighty oppressor! Questions unanswered, I stood there to hear the conversation.

“It seems like we are not going any farther”

“We fought for something, we are going off track”

“All this bloodshed what was it for?”

“I wish I had never joined “

“Freedom can only be won through gun wounds, through terror, through fear.”

“No we must fight, till we reach”

“He’s right, our dominance will arise fear in them, one day they will be rescued from the wrong”

“We are only saving them”

“Yes”

*Bullet Shot* *Bullet Shot* *Bullet shot*

We are a heartless generation. The ability to express took various forms in our society. We all have the right to speak for the good or the bad, but during the fight to keep our judgement on top of the shelf, we got lost in translation. And our words, and our rights gave birth to the omnipresent  body-shamers, critics, haters, bullies, preachers, politicians ( with no knowledge or concern), and media (the unethical one). Our thoughts are important, our decisions are important but today we live in a composite world, where each decision of ours  no matter how big or small shapes millions of lives. We have absolutely no right on our life or others when it comes to the topic of terminating it. We all were born to say words of different genres, but if ours hurts others sentimentality we are the losers of our incarnator. Speak gently yet with affirmation. You must speak your thoughts, less they become volcanic eruptions of lava. You must recite the ideology you have created less it becomes a doctrine one must follow. You must spread your wings to fly, less they rust and hold you tight.

Talk cause else is just built up emotions of drama, talking helps you free yourself from the baggage you’ve been carrying. Discuss proactively like gentle-people. Debate with an attitude to accept your opponent’s views. Speak, less you become chaotic and artistic and drown in the misery of your mindset. Tame your breathe, your nerves, your volume, your blood, your words to free yourself from the cage that has built you. Run to come back stronger and louder not wilder or crazier. Speak to uplift not to pull down. Be your name cause rest will be working not for your dream.

Let the emotions do the talking and the heart the loving, the mind the thinking, the legs the walking, the eyes the seeing, the hands the thanking-meeting and greeting. Let the nature of the natural you touch lives in natural ways.

As I come to end this I hear they have arrived. I run to lose myself to the loud-wild and triumphing sounds of the band. I dance in the crowd like I belong to them, I dance with my god, I dance with my neighbours, I dance with free souls. We belong here, our emotions aligned, our hearts in harmony, our thoughts disappear as we connect to our oneness again. And this is what I saw in street 2.

Until next time, goodbye.

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8 thoughts on “Talk.

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