Man – where are you?

Man – where are you? This is for those who think and feel

Padhnay waloon kay naam:
Woh jo asahaab e tabl o ilm
Kay darroon per kitaab aur qalum
ka taqaazah liye haath fehlaye
pohanchay maggur loat ker ghar na aye
woh maasoom jo bholpan main
wahan apnay nanhay chiragoo main lov ki laggun
lay kay pohanchay jahaan
butt rahaay thay ghattatoap bay-antt raatoon kay saaye
                                                                              (Faiz)

We hadn't read the TV Menu of the channels preferred over others that eve but the amount of violence depicted in day to day life of animal world and in the mad moments of the gory history of man left big question marks on the faces of my small family- discomforting me particularly as I offered no explanation- sane or stupid, to my kids.

Forget war scenes. Don't we come across battle-like scenes in our daily life? Flexed muscles, cupped stones and choicest invectives galore where brains conditioned over years with duping rhetoric and addictive sentimentality confront off beat tracks. Even before hearing you out pigeon heads hurl hasty responses. You have yet to finish your sentence but they are out with the pre-conceived reply. By the time you begin to drive your point home they have pronounced their verdict and are readying noose. People can't digest that other shade of opinion, second view point can also exist which could be well debated and rationally argued if cognizance of other dimensions is to be taken for better understanding of the picture.

Dubious is the calm people usually project in their daily behavior. In reality the well groomed, well phrased interactions often fulcr-ate on the precipice of ravines and an unexpected shift by a weighty argument to the other side of pivot topples the goody good affair in a jiffy, Tempers fly high, niceties are thrown to winds, civilized behavior foot-thumped and the love-beaming contours of angelic face get transformed with rising negativities into the persona of beastly devil-frothing, snorting, grimacing and gesticulating – raving like rabid lunatics. A little more and throats are slit, without any qualm. You slice a human being; wait and watch till the job is performed well. How can humans stoop so low? Why this utter disregard to human life. Is there any substitute to the life so extinguished? Nay, nay and nay; I say one thousand times. It can't be otherwise. Human life IS supreme.

A piece of imbecile land under a cubical bunker on the border; a slogan & a flag- called emblem of patriotism; a barren political arrangement sought to be set up as per the designs of politicians, are nothing but the hypes built craftily for the poor canons draped in human raiment. All are too weak a justification for killing or getting killed – that has unfortunately been revealed to be too strong by the gory history of barbaric heroes that have trampled the holy ground of the globe we inhabit. Alas! We get de-sensitized every day. Violence seems to have become the ingredient of the beast called uncivilized-man. Unmoved we are by the wails of the mother who lost her son, Deaf we are to the shrieks of the sister who lost her brother. Sobs of fathers and brothers don't touch our impervious skin. Even if we do grieve for a moment we repeat these inhuman acts and things go on and on from Alexander to Chenghis to Ashoka & Marhatta and those of the ilk today, One glorified here, another there and those who suffered….long forgotten, unwept, unsung….poor, naïve canon fodder… captives of belly fire … fed on tall talk of ideologies, isms and what not … blah, blah, blah.

As a tail piece I offer my readers a poem titled CALL- dedicating it to mothers whose sons have disappeared during the turmoil.

Crouching slowly
To comb the tousled strands
Of my poem
The moist breeze of ideas
Had begun to ferry
The landscape of words
When rushes shrieked
And harps in hedges
Went mute
   (- hearing her voice)

“Of one colour you will find
The votive threads and my veil,
      Same flicker you will find
     Of my eyes and the lamps
      (-placed on Karevas)
What is strewn on every path?
Flowers or blood?
 Who can tell?
     Willow tresses, song of brooks
     Unkempt hair and my call.
Arms outstretched
Pines and Chinar
Keep vigil with me
For a glimpse of you.

     Still in dalliance
        (-with a dream)?
    Captive?
    Eliminated?
       -upstream
     Speak up child
     Hear my call.

This article was published in Greater Kashmir on October 13, 2008