Change

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton Season 2 edition 18; the eighteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Perched on a rooftop wall, I looked down to see the tiny aggressive bodies running with stones in their hands towards the uniformed lot. The multitude of stones hurled did not deter the latter, since by now it had become a usual day-to-day affair for them. They could just take out another tear gas shell and throw it at the protesters. This would stop the buggers , at least for a while. 

They run from various directions and charge. In the background there is the rising smoke and the ringing echoes from the smoke grenades and rubber bullets being shot almost habitually at the screaming students.

This is a scene I witnessed in the midst of the students' agitation which has been going on in order to attain separate statehood for a certain section of Andhra Pradesh in a University, which is a stone's throw away(literally) from mine. As the world rises(cf. the middle-east) against the old systems and prejudices and practices - never mind the futility of many such endeavours - one becomes increasingly aware of not only the hustlers but also the people who are supposedly uninvolved.

My eyes glued to the, almost dramatic, scene below see that on one half of the road, the protesting students and the RAF were after each other contentiously. On the other half which was just a divider away, there was normal traffic - lovers out on a romantic bike ride, parents fetching their children from the school, families going for a movie, a bridegroom on his way to his wedding in a glittering, decorated car etc, too busy living their lives to even bother to give the warring side of the road a glance. There was an occasional spark from a gun shot visible from amongst the trees. The wind also brought with it the evening azaan from the nearby mosque which went unnoticed by the crowd involved/captivated by the happenings. If one looked at the sky, there was the setting sun which brought the promise that yet another day of agitation would soon come to an end. 

picture credit: liveindia.tv

Everything is blue.

Everything is dead.

Everything is mixed up.

I see a bright door, yet i am painted black.

At this moment, looking intently at my goosebumped arms, lost in the humbling thoughts that filled my mind, I felt immensely insignificant with respect to the larger order of things in the world. Suddenly a witness to the collage of all human emotions and passions- politics, hatred, possessiveness, love, mundane every day life, anger, frustration, curiosity, religion and even love- I couldn't help but be overwhelmed by this strange yet entirely matter-of-fact event. 

Maybe I am supposed to take up some charge and shout more slogans; or put down the cellphone, log out of the social networking sites and start signing more petitions, maybe I am supposed to go out and join fellow protestors and pelt some stones. But I haven't heard my calling yet.Should I just act because it is the 'in' thing to do? Or simple wait for a time more suited. Should I take a moment to see, feel and interiorize whats happening all around or simply turn my eyes to something brighter and walk away? I am not sure. Maybe I am supposed to come out of the passive unconcern that has set in my disposition. But it does not seem the right time to wake up yet. I shall be irresponsible by not acting, as many have already acted irresponsible with the power of action in their hands. I shall simply dream of a change; of a less-complicated, less chaotic world. A change which the entire world is awaiting with anxious eyes and held breaths. Until then,

Everything is blue.

Everything is dead.

Everything is mixed up.

I see a bright door, yet i am painted black.

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