Yesterday night I was angry, really really angry. Given the fact that few things ever perturb me to the point of anger, even I was surprised. But I had every right to be. My country was afraid yesterday night, afraid of fanaticism, afraid of the enemy within, afraid of a verdict that was necessary.
The city that taught me my trade refused me entry because the Government was unsure if it can protect its citizens. My own government spent its time and energy to ensure that the nation remained at peace with itself and did not tear itself apart. I was stuck in Mumbai keeping my work aside as the country had decided to stay in.
I felt impotent. I felt helpless. I felt naked. Everyone was afraid around me.
Way Way back in the second year of the decade when India slowly started on its journey towards economic decentralization, a young boy in Calcutta was deeply upset as his school decided to shut down for a week in the last month of that year. He could not understand why he was not being allowed to go to school. His politically literate family was also at a loss. Nobody knew why the country was in a state of confusion and shock. And he did the only thing he has known to do whenever he has faced a question. He read.
Sometimes questions have no one answer. He realized answers evolve as time passes by. And the same answer presents itself in different forms.
Hope the greatest intoxicant known to Man - As two young students in a lonely room in Vishwakarma Hostel believed with Samwise the Brave, “There’s something good in this world and it is worth fighting for.”