■ masticated faces – a note

as i flip pages of dailies, i come across news that stirs my existence. every sunrise alarms me as my breakfast is always served with violence and deaths. strange… people die for some bizarre purpose, some reason, or no reason at all.

somewhere a new mother smiles but her baby wails as it chokes its first breath of this freaky air. frightened and suffocated it is, but has just been pulled out from the coziest place in the universe – the womb.

we all are pulled out from the womb for some purpose, some reason but not for no reason. and we all live in the world we create… a bomb blasts in the neighborhood, a bus explodes in a landmine, a group of villagers looses their lives in a raid, somebody is killed with an unfired arm, a man is beheaded without any fault of his, and brothers are gunned down in an encounter. everyday some families, friends, relatives or neighbors mourn the death of their beloved who dies untimely for no fault of his/her.

we are pulled out from the womb…but not for this purpose.

frustration prevails with every sip of my coffee. friends silently gaze my mute eyes, unable to find the answer to their questions. my intimacy with those friends is profound since we share our deepest anxieties, thoughts, ideas and even hopes on any topics, be it politics, society or art. however, we are succumbed to the situation since none of us are contributing anything to change things around us. therefore, we sit uncomfortably numb. our ideologies are shattered as we realize that we are just drowning mannequins in the whirlpool of this traumatic situation.

perhaps accepting pessimism is an act of stupidity, but blaming this to the situation is not my escapist tendency. ironically, the pessimism not only stifles us but also our countrymen …or to be precise- the entire human race. this is an era of a dreadful condition; an epoch in which we are searching our faith on the blood stained pebbles that we walk on.

fresh smell of the crimson fluid chokes my breath. death of army men, policemen, innocent countrymen and even those who rebel, has been a part of my life now. i die psychologically every moment as i see myself in the corpses that lay still.

though the shadows of pessimism dwell inside our heart, we still see the rays of hope. this flickering light makes our consciousness visible, and this is how we transcend from the abyss of darkness. the gravity of our own inner self gives strength to our half dead existence; it starts coming back to life again. how? it is simple; we are artists, we do not claim ourselves to be creators but we are a part of creation. every end is the manifestation of a new beginning. we imagine and act upon it to prove that we are here. no matter how melancholically dark it is, we take inspiration from the deepest, darkest yet the safest place in the universe- our mothers’ womb. the rays of light still enliven us. we have awakened from the dead. our distorted faces reflect on the coffee that we sip- they are masticated. still we are not afraid from our reflection. we are courageous enough to search beauty, even in the ugliness of these masticated faces. our heart- still whispers soft sound of life, our faith- firm and determined. we sip the last remains of the coffee to be back home unharmed before its too dark. we beget a new journey with fresh tints in our palettes to paint a bright new world…a beautiful world to live in, for us…for everyone.

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