CATCHING UP WITH HOPE!

A renaissance has begun in the Americas as a black wins the White House.

Unfortunately, India seems decades away from a renaissance as such, what with the age old battles still being fought. Battles to establish superiority – by one religion over the other, by one sex over the other, by the north over the south, by the vegetarians over the non-vegetarians, by one language over the other, by…

Alas! Renaissance is far… far… away… I see rays… perhaps of a faintly lit Hope.

I look around in search of anything that can help me console my fears of Hope being completely wiped off. Yet, all I see are borders amongst people of a country; borders cut through their hearts and minds like deep incisions. I see violence. I see the compulsion of one people to rule the other. I see the other people – sitting in the concrete jungles, enjoying coffee and worried about the markets. I see them rich, fun-loving and ambitious. I see them doing nothing but sleep peacefully. I see them helpless when a people knock on their doors and kill them for crossing the borders – in their own country.

I stop looking around. I stop searching. I close my eyes. I hold back my tears.

“We are a nuclear power!” – I tell myself – “one of the fastest growing economies. Surely it can offer a growing child something worth living. Surely it can offer something that can console me. Surely it has something that will tell me I can still hope; WE can still hope; that the rays will be brighter; that Hope will live.”

I take a deep breath. I open my eyes. I see a child begging for alms – in tattered clothes, bruises all over her body. I stare at her. Perhaps Hope is just as alive as is this child. Beaten, Dishonored, Vulnerable – yet living; or maybe, just surviving.

Suddenly, I am reminded of the industries that India can boast of – more than 1.3 million children in the sex trade, more than 10 million prostitutes, and a boisterous industry of drug trafficking. We sell our women and children – innocence and dignity – to draw an unmatched billion dollar industry, what with the devdasi practices and child marriages still taking place; with the governments determined to express their prejudices by force, destruction and hatred; with lakhs of citizens taking to guns and bombs – the ‘terrorists’ - determined to bring the downfall of their own country.

I give the girl few coins. But, is that all that a billion people and a fastest growing economy offer their children?

Perhaps Hope just walked away, disgusted.

Is Hope still walking as far as it can from us?

What can I do to stop it? Nothing. I cannot change the minds and lives of millions. I cannot do anything for this little child. I cry at my helplessness.

Why am I just a human?! A helpless human.

I look up to the sky where I have believed God lives. Mother always said He has the ultimate power – to grant life, to end it. He gave birth to Adam and Eve and a world began. God had the powers to end the world and if He is angry He definitely will. I wonder if He is angry enough. What convinces Him to keep the world going?

What will this child do till God’s outrage ends this world? What will I do till then? I run after Hope, in an attempt to catch up with it. I run miles and miles. I stop. I look back. I am miles away from that dark sordid place. I see a lot of people behind me – running towards Hope. I smile. All these people running give me a relief that I made the right decision.

But there is something I see beyond these people running. I see people fighting, dishonoring women and hurting children. I stand aghast. I see someone on the street of my house – starving. I see houses burning. I see people revolting through gun battles. I see borders – astonishingly in a religion.

I look down dumbstruck. Now, they have people who cannot worship God, who they say are not accepted by Him!!

I look in the direction of Hope. I remember Lot’s wife. Looking towards Hope, I wonder if I should look back - my home, my people, college, all are burning. I close my eyes, tears rolling down my cheeks. I cry uncontrollably. I control my desire, an urge to run and stop this viciousness. I stop my feet from running to where my home is and screaming “STOP! You have no right to do this. This is my land. If you cannot be here at peace, I will still do you the favour of burying your body in it. But this is my land. I have the right to live here and I will live here in peace.”

But I cry. I don’t want to look back at men exercising power through killings, rapes and aggression.

I cry. I don’t wish for Hope any longer. Yet, not knowing where to go, I walk…