Amidst the desolated terrain of the broken, the
stories have etched themselves in the sound of the wind, a wind so hollow that
even the rustling of the leaves reeks of death. Oh, how the atmosphere is
filled with the foul stench and yet there is no smell. How the silence shrieks
of the cries it has so cunningly but dutifully engulfed in itself, as if paying
its respect to the deceased. Oh, how this land is diseased. And yet it appears
as nothing but promising of peace. Death has been looming over the horizon. Death
has been scattered over the ground. And in here, steps a man with spirits as
high as a mount where he masks the sense of foreboding with a sense of
accomplishment. Nay, it wasn’t a quiet death nor was it quick. It was slow and
painful, where the wails echoed for a time so long, it felt like an eternity. Humanity.
Humanity died a long time ago.
It is easy to walk in a place and not hear nor
sense the devastation it has once witnessed. If it were the case, it would have
haunted man forever. Here’s a funny thing about cruelty, it is often attempted
with a process of cleansing. Where the mess has been taken care of, and the
broken replaced while the scars, hidden, who would hesitate to step in it
again?
Who said “war” is how matters are taken care of?
It’s not patriotism. It’s hopeless romanticism we have associated with the
concept of war. War as a concept, ay, what a notion! At what point does a man
decide that spilling of blood would solve a crisis? At what point does a man
decide that taking a life equals eliminating a threat? You see threats have
this ability of rooting themselves deep in the surrounding. Sins sprout up as a
fruit. And sins don’t fade away easy. Your ritual of spilling blood, of
sacrificing for the cause of fending off this demon, this immortal beast of a
sin will never succeed. Violence is never the answer. It’s a cause. A lost
cause.
It’s not funny. I find no humor in a situation
where lives are at stake. How is strength associated with who gets to kill more
rather than with who gets to save more? When did we become so lost, so deluded,
so failed that we stopped seeing the suffering. When did killing more people
become a notion of victory? When did the greatest of all creations descend so
low that they found peace in destroying lives?
You think war is fun? Snap out of the fantasy. This
is not where the heroes you have so idealized fight off with all their skill
and might and bring victory to home sweet home. It’s not where a few days of
darkness are followed by the sunshine of freedom. War does not free you. It
chains your mind for as long as your heart beats. Because you die the moment
you are touched by the war.
Don’t you know what it does to people? You think
there are survivors of war? That’s the biggest lie. Truth is, nobody survives a
war. Nobody ever comes out of it alive.
See they say, writers have this inner eye where
they can just see. And yet after all this time, I have never once managed to
even catch a glimpse of where war is an answer. Guess what I am trying to say
is that it is, indeed, good to have the spirit to fight for your nation, for
your loved ones, for protection but why do things have to reach that stage? Why
do humans always try to bring others down while attempting to climb up? Why can
you not lift them up with you? All for what? HATE? Should love not be stronger
than this? We have misplaced our love, in love for violence, how have we
misused this emotion to the worst cause ever. Agendas. What the sung and unsung
heroes died for. AGENDAS.
Consider me naïve but I will tell you this, War
is a lose-lose situation. Nobody, NOBODY wins a war. There is no victory, there
is no success. There is only loss and causalities and suffering and dread, it
is the dearth of the souls, it is the end of a whole world. Those who lived,
lived in vain. Those who died, do they rest in peace? Oh the silence after war
isn’t peace. It’s the dread. It’s the loss of sound. It’s the loss of all.
