Sunday, November 30, 2008
Seething anger. And a complete sense of being vulnerable.
Sheer disgust. At my own initial reactions to something I perceived as yet another incident, Firing at Leopold’s, said the caller who tried reaching me while I watched a film. Yet another drunken brawl, I thought to myself. 8 people dead, he said. These mad buggers, i thought and went back to the film. Complete apathy. And then the screening stopped. Evacuation. And a horrible feeling.A squelch. And the worst fears playing truant in my head.
How close to home does tragedy have to lurk for us to stop playing oblivious. How many times does my adopted city have to get hit for fear to take over my existence. And how many times can I get myself to reread a list of the dead and the martyred before I pick the phone and check up on an acquaintance who worked at the Taj, who may perhaps not answer my phone-call. Every morning, I tell myself that I’d hate to go through the day if he didn’t answer his phone. And every evening I try and sleep, and wake up thinking if he’s all okay. Its been 4 days. And the text message remains unsent.
I’ve never known this fear before. Where I walk, strangely aware of every un-rhythmic movement around me. Where I wonder if this is over. Or if someone would retaliate and kill a few more innocent people to take revenge of an edifice that was charred for the amusement of a few individuals on a political picnic. I saw the Taj burn, and understood what hate means.
Words- meanings and sounds, places and people, my reverence and obstinacy stand challenged.