Tears...

All this time, whenever someone has hurt me, or scolded me, I’ve never once refrained from thinking I’m unlucky (note: only in these circumstances) But there are some incidents, which make my problems, whatever silly teenage ones or family ones they might be, seem like nothing, they push them into a dark void. And here are some of them. A compilation of the most disgusting, sickening, gruesome and painful stuff I’ve ever heard.

It was in class 9 that we had a drama to study, called “The Bishop’s Candlesticks”. My English teacher, Dass Sir, the best teacher I’ve ever seen never leaves anything unexplained. No surface study. The story starts with the introduction of a very kind Bishop, who treats Religion for what it is meant to be, Humanity. Helping people is his mission in life. And there is a Convict, who breaks into the Bishop’s house. He threatens to kill the Bishop if the Bishop doesn’t give him food. The Bishop without any hesitation extends his hospitality to the Convict and along with food and wine, also gives him a place to sleep and a blanket to cover himself with. The Convict is confused… He sees two silver candlesticks in the Bishop’s house and he plans to steal them after the Bishop has left. The Convict manages to steal them on the way. He runs away with them. Meanwhile the Bishop notices that the Candlesticks have been stolen. It was given to him by his Mother. But then, the police enter his house with the Convict and make him return the Bishop’s Candlesticks. The Bishop frees the Convict and tells the police that the Convict is his friend. He gives the candlesticks to the Convict so that the Convict can lead a good life. The question arises, why was the Convict sent to prison? His wife was starving and sick. So, he stole money to buy food for her. And thus, he was arrested and sent to the prison hulks for 10 years. And the incident I’m talking about, is about this- the prison hulks.

Earlier on, prisoners and slaves were sent to prison hulks. Prison in a ship. They had to row the ship. Mark my words, it was no mean task. If they stopped rowing, they were whipped. And if there was a storm, they were the first ones to die. These ships were specially designed for these prisoners. They stayed below the deck in long, dark, narrow passages, with only 2 openings at the ends of the passage so that air could enter. They were chained here. All their life processes took place there: breathing, eating, excreting… And just before the “journey” was over, they were brought up to the deck. Water was poured on them and they were rubbed with huge brushes. They would develop sores and rashes all over their body. They were given one good meal on that day. During the journey, if they fell sick or were not healthy enough to row, they were just forced to walk the deck and jump into the sea, if not, they were pushed in to the sea.

And then: Guantanamo Bay. The famous 9/11 attacks. Innocents were killed after the attacks. In the prison, they were treated like… like no living thing ever should be. When the prisoners fasted as a sign of protest, feeding tubes were shoved up their noses. Suicide attempts were passed as “self-injurious” acts. They were tortured with glass pieces, and barbed wires. They lived in the same room as their feces. The men were… sexually assaulted by some women officers/ whatever they were. Religion defiled… they were forced to eat pork. Three words described all this “ Extreme Psychological Stress”. And I read about Jamil al-Banna, one of the prisoners, and his children that evening.

And then I read about a Child Soldier at Sierra Leone, a girl. In her “camp”, a boy was forced shoot a person, apparently, for practice. He refused to do so. All the other children were ordered to beat the child with sticks and kill him. And then smear his blood all over their body, to remove their “fear”, or they would face the same fate. The girl whom I’m talking about was there, hitting the boy. The boy knew her, and looked up at her timidly and asked her, with tears in his eyes, “Why are you doing this to me?”. The girl was sobbing as she replied, “I don’t know…”

And as I recollected all these incidents, my eyes were moist, tears were rolling down my face. Why? Didn’t I have problems? But what are my problems after all? Some stupid teenage obsession, some silly fight with a friend? Some cousin I fought with? Oh no, they were nothing. They were on the left side of the number line. These… These were problems. Killing your friend, being imprisoned for nothing, being enslaved because of your skin colour, being tortured 24x7. Waking up in the morning, knowing that you will be whipped, knowing that you are going to be sexually assaulted, or tortured with barbed wires…

And today I won’t say I’m lucky, I know I am. No point stating it here. Today I want to cry out loud, to say, “STOP, is this what your religion teaches you? Is this what you learnt when you were a child???” My voice is soft, its not loud enough to reach the world.

As my eyes are clouded with tears, I can still see. Even through these bars of rage, I can see that this is wrong. Being such an emotional person, I can still SEE, what is right and what is wrong… And yet, some others can’t, mainly those who have the power to stop it!!!

JAAGO RE!