Frantically pouring closets into a single suitcase. Grabbing everything that can be carried. Mute farewells to walls and shelters and orange trees and cars bought from an entire lifetime’s saving. Thrusting tears back from where they came from, running away to seek sanctuary from the place where they came from.
Escaping your country. Silently wondering where life would now go, morosely, silently wondering whether your favourite next-door-neighbour who invited you for dinner two days ago is still breathing. It’s hard to tell who is running off to where or whose daughter has been raped and shot dead already.
Overhead military aeroplanes. Are they ours? No, that’s the wrong question. Are they on our side? No wrong question again. Are they going to start firing at us? Yes, that’s the real question.
Childhood friendships. Teenage loves. Classmates. Split apart like peas from a pod. Casually, just like that. An entire country lost to a wildfire, just like that.
Aeroplanes, overloaded. No cabin crew, no security checks. Surreal. People flocking on the wings of the plane? Despondent? Justified? People falling off aeroplanes in mid-air. Is this a comic book? Or is this.. the 21st century?
Seen outside the airport: A million transuding bodies, some covered from head to toe in black veils. A lost toddler screaming for his lost family. The family? Probably already in a flight to a country willing to provide refuge. What will he do now? Worry not. He will be trampled under the commotion. If not? He will be trafficked to the capital and given arms before he can learn the alphabet. Yes, sounds about humane.
Pain, death, agony, blood, sweat, fire, guns, arms, bullets, screams, cries, tears.
Justified. Justified because a herd of insurgents want political power. Very much justified.
This is the 21st century.
Authored By
Ayushi Jain
