A tired day at work. An enjoyable time at school. A candle-light evening. Cozying in the arms of the loved one at bed-time. A busy schedule on field. A horrid workload to bear. Umpteen assignments. Competent deadlines. Family issues. Uncomfortable apprehensions. All these, or a few combos of these demand more than just rest. They demand sleep. A sound sleep. Sleep promises the bringing of a new day. A beautiful day which starts off with the smile of your little daughter, or by the sweet yell of your mother. With the dream of making it big in life or with a thirst of being the leader.
Life, work, fun, love, money, time are all with us. The one thing which brings eternal release from all these clutches, however, remains condemned. Death. The return ticket which follows us all along The Journey, faithfully. The demon which smiles wickedly at the people left behind. The custodian of a human, responsible to God. The trace of desertion, hidden in relationships.
Being such a valuable thing, it is treasured by a person, without his knowledge. It is ever so loyal it is to its master, that it follows him 24×7. Unfortunately, it is tempted by old-age, illness, poison, accident and off late, bombs. The first examples speak a good deal about themselves. But the last one; the god-damned last one, haunts. It is ‘Death’s wicked temptation and plays hide-n-seek. It may show itself on a street, in the gutter, under a bus, inside a train, below your chair, above your roof. Theoretically it can be anywhere and can strike you flat on your face, or on your butt.
What has a common man got to do with it? When death is certain, what is the use of craving for dear life? If its not a bomb, then it might be illness or anything else. What is the big difference? You’re gonna die anyway. But, one very important question is to be pondered over.
What about the survivors?
Can you imagine the face of a person who has witnessed the blast? In a mesh of feelings of gladness of survival, the shock of witnessing the incident, the grief of seeing Death, the anxiety about loved ones, the rage to condemn it, the inability to move, the longing to curb it and a host of unknown brainwaves, the common man is entangled and shattered.
The dead Rest In Peace. The living Roast In Pulverisation.
In this scenario, Death brings up its cousin ‘Fear’ into picture. A small survey on the aftermaths of bomb-blasts in history shows vast traces of this commodity. If its cousin was a sure-shot killer, Fear is more of a sadist. It loves to see people enjoying pain, anxiety, tension, and lastly, itself. As the whole World is contemplating measures to curb the widespread nuisance and havoc caused by Fear, the stupid common man is dreaming of seeing the same Fear dancing to his tunes on the faces of those lunatics, who’re responsible for brutal mass-murder.
Every damned person who calls himself a terror-striker must be hanged by his hair and rested on a bed of needles until every drop of blood drains out of his body, leaving him numb, yet alive. He must be denied the basic human rights. It must showcased to the whole World, giving them a chance to witness the torture of the torturers. The trauma must be videotaped and a copy be sent to every potential terrorist. The blood boiling in their veins with rage must experience the Fear and calm down, lest, it may face the same fate.
Peace may be the safest weapon. The terrorists being trialled or court-marshaled doesn’t serve the purpose of punishment. When the person has the evil in him to think of killing people ruthlessly, he has lost his right to live. And by this, it is not the question of killing a terrorist, but the guarantee of life to a few vulnerable people. A chance for them to start off a beautiful day with the smile of their little daughters, or by the sweet yell of their mothers. With the dream of making it big in life or with a thirst of being the leader.
Post inspired by the grievances of a Stupid Common Man. Have a good day.
Related Reading : Nita’s post, Amit’s Post.