Paradise in Mayhem – S01E01

Bereaved and Isolated

It was death all around, else people would be waiting for the final colossus to come to them and take them away with a whisker of a smile.

It was the time of hatred, just more hatred. We had no time for others, because sooner or later, they will perish and the perils will come chasing.

We waited for our turn. Yes, we are trying to make amends, steal away bit of thunder from the apocalypse and turn a blind eye to the slaughter game that’s tormenting us – when we are awake and when we are not asleep.

The cries, the agony, the contempt, the betrayal, the animosity. This is life, and life is cruel, standing at the pinnacle of failure.

We can see it coming, but we stand still, waiting for the inevitable. Perhaps, something more than just inevitability.

The First Time

Jennifer was equally scared, since her father was a part of the Army and it’s negotiators who were destined for an end that they refuse to see and condemn. 

She is quite an opposite, though. Her mother is her friend and philosopher, but she obviously belongs to a generation that has seen lot of blood and vengeance running through their backyard. She supports her husband, but cares for her daughter and understand that such levels of tedious vibes might as well take a toll on the young girl. She is only 22, and loves poetry.

She is accompanying her mother to the bakery today, its been sometime since she visited the bakery or the main market place, she very fond of fish but her parents don’t buy it often as she has a medical condition and fish is not recommended. But, she still loves them and persuades her mother to get it, at least once in a week. But not when her father is around.

Air of Reluctance

A time of turmoil and prejudice, where human relationships are fragile and time isn’t giving you the space you want to live your life with a feeling of reciprocation. Time is for hatred and terrible things, things you don’t to hear or say or feel, yet all such divisive thoughts get the better of you in  a resplendent, rustic flavour of unjust moments. You remain undecided, people around look pretentious and non conducive, let alone love taking a you turn for such rustic times. Yet, love prevails. Love dangles with a sword in your hand, ready to face the army who is far more powerful and indispensable than you can ever imagine. Yet, love remains your sole and only reason to believe that you will live, and see others live with dignity.

Am I Home?

It is 1970. Civil War. The longest running and perhaps, the most ignominious in the history of human tragedies.

No war in the history of mankind has been kind. In fact, the ruthlessness lies in the aftermath, not in the ways of war.

In the wake of demands for a separate state, separate constitution and independence from the autocrats, innocent lives were lost and several rendered homeless. Thousands were displaced and we have never seen them again. I guess, we will never see them. But hopes don’t die, they are not meant to die. 

I have hopes too. I hope to see the light at the end of the unknown tunnel. I hope to see my family again. I want to see my daughter going to school again. I want my wife to wait for me when I return from work. I want my parents to feel proud that their son is doing well for himself in life. I want my siblings to visit us every week for dinner. I want the kids to play around in the garden. I want those moments back. I want to live those moments again. I want to live again.

As it stands today, we are separate souls in search of our soul mates. Our families are scattered or lost, our homes have been bombed, our workplace is a no-place now. Our industries are dead because we have no one to run them. Our economy doesn’t exist, or may be it does.

The war has ravaged our spirits, along with our land and its wealth. I feel I have lost my identity. I feel the credibility of being an accomplished is lost. I have the urge to live but how? I have the insatiable in me to survive but for who? Yes, the war is for us. But am losing grip over the factual representation of this calamity. Am I fighting an enemy in flesh and bones or am I battling my demons within? No sleep, but I have lost sanity.

Our city has turned in to an island of gaping quicksand. And with us, everything around is dying. Obscured death, if I can say what it is.

30 years later…

I am in Chester, UK. I own a convenience store, managed by me and my wife. My son is a freelancer and occasionally visits our store. My daughter is married to a British and they live in Liverpool.

Yes, I have a life. My family has been returned to me amidst chaos and catastrophe. In fact, I am one of the few who have emerged alive from the clutches of war and violence.

I feel, I have seen it all. But I am still not home. I know for a fact, I will never make it. 

There is no home, we have enclosures and we are breathing.