(This one hasn't any particular direction. Just some musings put together.)
The valentine's day has passed. No news of bombings anywhere. Thank god, I say to myself. Valentine's day. The day that sells many greetings. Many flowers. What about the ones on the other side of the line ? The ones that wreaked havoc lately, with their bombings and shootings. What would the valentine's day hold for them ? The boss says it's a holiday for us today. He's going out with his wife to a dinner tonight. ??? What about these guys ? Quite young. With frequent rushes of blood to the heart. The adrenaline rush. Cold blood to the heart or blood to a cold heart ?
It's not like they have thought it from the time they came to senses. What would they have thought when they were 10yrs old ? What would you have thought of when you were 10yrs old and one amongst them ? You look at the grocery store wondering how lucky his children are because they need not work much because they already knew what they would do when they grew up. Owner of the grocery store...the place where people get vegetables from, their daily essentials, not guns. Yes knives. Only that they are used for cutting vegetables.
You look at the ice cream walah. Like a magician who takes a rabbit out of the hat, he takes the ice-crotes from his dabba. Look magic. Smiles on the faces of the children surrounding him. I want to be a magician, make people gasp, make magic. Look magic. Everyone claps. Nice show, sir. What show is this now, where's the rabbit ? Only that its not a rabbit, it might have been an AK or a grenade. No claps. Only hands, detached from their masters.
You watch the television. Big cars and smiles all around. Enough dough in their pockets to buy lots of icecreams and chocolates. I want to have them too. Except that on their way up, they forgot the things that gave them satisfaction, the things that they wanted. Aspirations grow. People change. But when you listen to a wrong voice you make a wrong choice.
How does it work? What you think is wrong, is right for one. What brings you tears brings a smile for someone. How does it work? How does one know what's right ? What's right need not always be good. What's good or right need not always be the thing that should be done. Who decides these? Who dies and who lives? You there, you are wearing that blue pants that I despise. You will pay for it. Is that it ?
What about their valentine's ? They say everyone has a someone who thinks they are the angel on Earth, the blessing from above. Everyone has a someone who has robbed of their hearts. And in some cases, minds as well. That one girl that used to grin, through the veil, when she sees you.What about the one for these guys? Holding roses instead of guns. A bunch of roses for you miss. You stole my heart. I am heartless now. Sarcastic, no. Tragic. Maybe there are the only ones who can stop them frommarching ahead.
So, where is the love ? In the world, is growing unrest. My darling son, you are home. How was the school ? He's safe today, she says to herself. One more day of being safe.
We went for a small trip to Basar, to visit a temple. On the way, we stopped to eat the puffed rice, lemon rice and chapathis that mom made. We stopped near a lush green field. It was an onion and potato field. There was water running through the pump that was in the field and we thought it good to stop there. We had just finished eating the food and had taken a few snaps and were contemplating on leaving when a little girl arrived. She was the daughter of the farmer that owned the field. She was all smiles. She stretched her right hand and we saw that there were a couple of roses in it. There were two of my sisters with us. It was for them. They were only too glad to accept it with a smirk. Her dad had plucked those roses (there were a few rose plants on the far side of the field and we didn't notice it. Probably he planted them for his daughter) and gave it to her daughter to give it to these girls. No one has asked for it. It was not at all needed. But it was love. Love for his daughter as well as these daughters of some father that he didn't know. An act of good will.
One can blast such people. Can grind bullets through them. But cannot touch what's within. Of what one holds inside.They can make love take a back seat for some time. But cannot destroy it. It's here. It's all over the place. It's everywhere. For we are, still alive now. It wouldn't have been without enough love to hold on.