This is neither a brave post of sorts, nor a rant. But a mere expression of thought, or my unworthy two cents of what has become. I am not a brave soul, neither do I claim to be one (or intend to at that), yet it’s Tuesday and one and a half days have passed since what has happened. In all honesty, it is still Monday but I know it would be nightfall by the time I get about finishing this.
While it would be unfair to say that I am not affected by what takes place, blame it on the genetic makeup and the ongoing qualms of the personal belief systems, I do know that the riots are bothering me. I might not be too explicit about it but when I see my kind fight each other, the child in me simply asks, “Why?”
It has been a long time since I accepted that we were all one kind, irrespective of the supposed racist I claimed to be while I lived in India. On the contrary, I nurtured within me a deep love for the country, its people and everything else that came with it. Now, the supposedly mature person I have become no longer fights for “her kind” that rallies against “his kind”. While streaks of feminism still lie in me as the highlights on my hair since last Summer, it is only a matter of time before my hair grows longer and I get a new hair cut.
When the Sandra Bullock movie, Miss Congeniality mocked world peace, we all laughed a long in the name of comedy. But little did we know that those blonde babes had more sense than we do in wishing for a world filled with stability.
Some have called this the reincarnation or perhaps the start of such a reincarnation of the 1983 Black July. On the same light I have friends who avoid all forms of “reported media” on the claim of partiality and the mere fact of it being reported. Perhaps if we were all as dismissive about life, the world might be a happier place.
From the heartless to the “hearty”, here’s my parting word of Tuesday advise: