Maybe you should see it once. Great cities which once bragged about their architectural marvel for centuries, now reduced to mere rubble. Bustling marketplaces known for the fragrance of Zaffran lingering in the air, now replaced by toxic fumes and gunpowder; sewers are open, the population of rats growing inversely to that of the humans. On the bright side, capitalism has seen a decline. Roti, kapda, makaan is now rationed, while your loved ones are stationed in the frontlines. While you take a moment to think about them, you feel a heavy hand landing on your shoulder and a shout: “The road won’t pave itself.” You’re too sick to think for yourself, but the only way to keep your mother and sister alive is by shelling out your nationalism. In this new turn of events, your social standing has been defined by the ashirvad you get every time you talk about destroying the enemy, the more articulate or aggressive you are, the more blessings.
For example, Sharmaji’s beta is now making a million bucks, for who knew that making puns for the government would make him the head of propaganda some day.
The days are grey and the nights are pitch black. Loved ones receive letters but the lights are put off at night and the whole day goes in a showdown of who’s love for the motherland is more. All for what, geopolitical interests?
You have no tears.
The air raid siren ain’t one of your fears.
The green truck laden with the coffins of a hundred dead men no longer makes much difference to you. The guards giving the gun salute have absolutely made it clear that they feel nothing.
In this state of nothingness, of paving roads and creating fireplaces, a page, from a history textbook was found. “8th grade” the young boy in thick-rimmed glasses replied. While reading closely, you realise that this subcontinent is 2000 years old, with great men and women, who’ve contributed to ideas which became the raison d’etre for the people across the motherland; Buddha, Mahavira, Kabir, Nanak, Chanakya and Gandhi, not to mention a thousand others who remained forgotten in the lost books of history. While you’re done reading through that page, you just realise how far we’ve taken this Westphalian idea of a nation to. To the point where existence becomes irrelevant without embracing the absolutism. Welcome to this endless cycle of violence; which ends with ashes and tears.
In the same grounds where ashes were scattered and the tears dried up. You came together and built a new motherland. The years of war may have been passed on to your son. But your son remained unaffected hence he conveniently committed historical injustice by not passing it on to his son. Now you’re probably in your grave. While your grandson is sitting atop the 45th floor in his swanky cabin, nonchalantly articulating a declaration of war, on Facebook.
While you roll in your grave.