Speak, the short time is long enough
Before the flesh and words are dead
Speak, for the truth is alive even now
Speak, say all you wish you had said.*
-Faiz Ahmed Faiz
*Conditions apply. The last time I was honest, I heard someone calling me, ‘Bitch!
According to String Theory, all reality exists in (exactly) ten dimensions. There are four revealed dimensions (the three dimensions of space together with the fourth dimension of time) and an additional six concealed (spatial) dimensions. I do not have a Physics major, why to bother. At the end of the day, we look at things from my dimension, your dimension, the energy we spend in judging people is directly proportionate to the mass of our ego multiplied by the speed of prejudices we carry.
They say she is a 15-year-old homely girl. What they do not know is, home is not a place; it is a feeling. She is always buried in her book, reading, writing something or the other. If only they could read and understand what she is writing. She does not write of some army chopper crushing under her roof or the aunt who has a hasty temper caused by early menopause. At 12 am, when many eyes are closed, the neighbourhood sleeps, the shops are closed, the city lights overtakes the beam of the moon; the dogs are unaware of the things happening around them. That is when under her bed, she seeks for the world yet to be explored, a voyage yet to be taken. Her eyes know, this world is a bastard, and being a bastard everyone is more interested in who the father is? Whether Mr Evolution or Mr Creation? She giggles, as it goes, the mother would be the only one to tell who the father is, but she absconded, for she wanted her child to be brought up by the two gentlemen who were equally rich, so as to get the best of benefits from both.
For world history and politics, she read of race, class and gender and struggle and the phenomenology surrounding the cave man who never came out from where he lived, he was never a hunter and his partner did not yammer hell lot. Did Early-man taste his own shit? No one seems to take an importance of it when the fact is, it can reveal a lot of the waste management and the problems we are facing now. Figuratively, shit is all politics. Wars of any kind? Most students are more interested in memorising the causes and consequences of wars. But unlike them, she has a sense of aesthetics made stronger by her teenage hormones. Talking about soldiers, Italians are supposed to be one of the best-looking breeds, hundreds of them died young, such a waste. If Second World War was not a war but a male beauty pageant, then the memoirs of the contestants could have been interesting than those of emulations and bloodsheds.
For India, She did hear of Manu (the man who reminded her of Noah) and the exhibition of caste springing from his body parts. She was provoked by her own unsettled spirit to ask, who got his wings and his heart?? But she did not, because she knew no one had the answer. With up-gradation, she learned the problems, discriminations, executions, legislations, jurisdictions, productions, reproductions, seductions and reductions. She was glad, she was witnessing a circus without even bothering to buy the ticket.
Then there will be mafia and the lord of kills, they might scare her but she knows nothing really scares her, not the living or the dead, the seen or the unseen. She looks up at the sky the veil of whose is stained, walks through the door of the passage the light of whose is dim like the wits of the people she tries to avoid. She puts her hand inside the right pocket of her jacket, there she go, there is a stone which glows. She walks with the talisman.
A year after her graduation, she will find herself attending the conference on ‘Poverty and Population’. Everyone will be busy either listening or scribbling notes. She will be different than the rest. She knows the best way to end poverty and population problem is Hungry Games in real. Laughs!
