How great are the achievements of the weak and oppressed once they rise from the ashes and the world beholds their smoldering spirit, destined for glory. The diminutive steps that we take everyday seem insignificant and insufficient when we witness events that have passed or are in the state of passing through our times that we are privileged enough to record and pass these accounts to ones who will come henceforth to let them know of their glorious past. Our mind and soul seem blessed by these acts of heroism by individuals whom we often tag as lowly and imperfect. Heroism. A word which in today’s world has lost its meaning in its excessive application on battlefields all over the world and maybe someday, somewhere beyond. Heroism transcends these senseless boundaries and watches as a poor black boy in white man’s lands, gets beaten to the ground beacuse of his colour and then stands up again, stronger than ever, bolder than before, resolute that the matter will be laid to rest before his death. Heroism encourages masses of people to raise their voices in unison against oppression, tyranny and man who stands in their way to the right for a happy and prosperous life. Heroism teaches a young idealist lawyer to silently show dissent over injustice meted out not on merit but on the grounds of pride and power. But above all, heroism shows a common man how to overcome his darkest fears and guide him towards the glory of absolute truth.
How suppressed can we be in these times of nothing else? History teaches us, shows us that there is strength in all of us to rise, to speak and capture the world’s attention to change it as we feel it should be. And inspite of countless uses it is always seen goodwill conquers all. Then how long shall we stay behind when others have gone before us and are waiting for us to open the door and join their procession? How long shall the chains be tied around our hands, with the keys just a grasp away? How long shall history wait for other events of absolute beauty that has changed the world so many number of times. From races to colours, from religions to borders, from space to time and from women to wine, wars have been raged over the simplest and smallest of matters…yet never has peace and love been given a chance, nor have we stopped to look closely at all those who have called out in different voices over all these years. These voices are not of the crowd, they are singular, alone and yet the most powerful of all. Had man listened to all they had to say over the bridge of these many years, I wonder if this circle would have been completed.
We are all ordinary people. Weak, aimless, wandering amidst the debris of this dying world. Is it not the time to speak differently and truly, in words that are our own and none others’? Haven’t we waited for many thousands of years already?
I debate, I ask. Not to a man who will have my answers for I know not of any such person. Not to god for the architect knows all and will not reveal the answers till the very end. But to the world, I present my doubts for it is with this world that we are all concerned…