“Kya chukh Karaan?” “Ye gov makleomut!” “Yeti chu sori khatam!” “Suli-Ghari kar badal kheyhn!” “Behtar go neybre tscalun!”
These phrases reverb here like the supersonic noise of fighter jets in a war zone, as if splitting the sky in pieces, and directing it onto your chest, making it heavy and suffocating you to death.
And as you struggle to breath, there seems none to your rescue. Everyone appears to be running, chasing.
Then, as you lift that weight and breathe again, you walk, your eyes adhering to the sky.
Treading the path, you get nicked over by an uncovered manhole and you fall on your face. You become a bridge for pedestrians to cross over the drain. The pressure of masses almost rips the spine off your back, but somehow you pull yourself together and join the chores again.
Then a panic-gripped noise from not far away alarms you and you see: Marriage breaking, teenager stabbing, leader lying, peddler peddling, wild animal attacking, and mountain crumbling. In the abandoned buildings and solitary parks, you see the youth consuming drugs and across the street you see a son killing his mother.
You want to ask questions but no one seems to have answers, so you keep walking, looking around and appearing vigilant. The falls make you tougher and the toughness is reflected on your face. You rarely smile now, and the funniest of jokes fail to make you laugh.
You are pursuing a degree and have no idea what for.
And as you walk, you feel thirsty; a river runs along but can’t quench your thirst. The intermittent rains have brought its level up yet again. You stop and stare at the surface, you are overwhelmed by the flashbacks.
On the banks, sensing the heaviness of grey clouds about to burst makes you wait in suspension. The fascination of the river almost steamrolls you to jump. But you gather yourself, and continue your cruise, you need to reach the destination as per the rules.
Gasping along the way, you stop to breathe, a human passes and you want to speak, but you aren’t fluent in your language and can’t say what you mean.
So you keep walking and get lost in your thoughts. A quake jolts you and makes you remember the past.
Screams echoing in your head, earth shaking under your legs, you murmur something, everyone murmurs something. It stops, everyone gets calm, then everyone forgets. Moving on is the key but remembering keeps you conscious and consciousness keeps you alive.
But overwhelmed by the busyness, you feel the end has arrived: Glaciers melting, oceans shrinking, forests disappearing, and humans dying.
The hour is approaching but you still pay no heed, thousands of thoughts won’t let you sleep.
Everything is simple, simple as greed.
Disinformation is overwhelming and no one is educating, so you take it on yourself and read the book. The stories in it, guiding you to the truth.
The past teaches you, reminds you of your strength, you’re better than this when united and one. Courage replaces fear and truth overpowers falsehood, as falsehood is destined to be overpowered.
No more wailing, you are catching on your dream, taking everyone by surprise like a fast moving stream.
You feel uplifted, gifted by guidance, a light illuminating inside you, making you content.
You are stronger than before; you know what pain means. You are braver than before; you know what losing control means. There’s more to this journey; you know what reaching it means.
So gather yourself and stand your ground, for it is raining demotivation and there’s no one around.