CONVERSATIONS IN MY HEAD - DIARY TWO
I was lying on my bed, reading the book that was almost stopped from being released. That singular act had spiked my curiosity in knowing what baba was to be gagged over. So far, I was enjoying it. Ara was sitting at my desk, turning himself around on the swivel chair. He was bored. I didn't care. I just needed to read. He started tapping his teeth with one of my pens. I glared at him but that didn't stop him. So I ignored him. Ara could be a drama king at times.
"Would you die for her?" I looked up abruptly from the book I was reading both from surprise at the question and irritation from the disturbance.
"Who?" I raised my eyebrow. "Why will I want to die for anyone?"
"Your country. Will you die for her?"
"Wait! Just wait! When did the country become female? Don't tell me you're crushing on 'her'."
"Jealous?"
"Huh? Ewww. That's just so wrong. Why would I be jealous if you're crushing on a female?"
"Ok, so answer the question."
I thought about the question for a while. I had read the book by the great storyteller from the Eastern part of the country. It was not a work of fiction. It was a record for history. Some of the things I read in that book had given me shivers. I wondered if we really were one entity. And right in my hands, at the time Ara chose to ask his question was another book detailing the innards of the same country. The instant answer that flew into my head was a solid no. But I paused.
"I don't have a direct answer to that question Ara. But I have many points that will build up to a conclusion."
"Let's hear it."
"Does my country protect her children? There are so many kids on the street who have no business being there. They should be in school during those hours and after hours, be in their parents houses enjoying parental cover."
"But you know the society can never be balanced that way. There will always be those in need. There will always be the rich and the poor."
"You're such a wet blanket. Is a young woman not permitted to dream? Please walk out of my head."
Ara burst into laughter. He laughed till he rolled off the chair. His mirth had no effect on me.
"Funny you'd say that, considering I live in your head."
He was right. I shook my head, trying to shake him off. But he was in the chair, he wasn't in my head. Or, was he? Whatever.
"So, are you ready to listen now?" I asked.
"Oh please dream on."
"Kids that should be provided for have become the sole providers for their families. Whatever they sell on those streets is what their entire family subsists on. You know, I sometimes just stop to give them money, just because. I wish I could take them all off the road and into a big beautiful house where they would never ever lack again."
"That's noble. But, is it the children that will determine the extent of love you have for your country?"
"Well, they're one point. I think of justice and its miscarriage. The courts should be the hope of the common man. But the same court has put behind bars common persons that stole food to stay alive and set free 'entitled' treasury looters that should face the firing squad and shot bit by bit till they dried up at the stake."
"That's some really intense feeling there. How long have you been thinking this?"
"Everytime I see their bloated faces in the papers or their overfed round bodies on the screen."
"How do I survive inside that head of yours?"
"Aren't you feeding off my imagination?"
"I am your imagination."
"Can you stop talking? I haven't even answered the question yet."
"I already know your answer. Stop bemoaning an already bad situation. I know you love your country but you can't stomach all that isn't going fine."
"You would know, won't you?"
"So, get the thoughts out there and make them workable, stop grumbling within yourself. It changes nothing. Get up and be that change you wish to see."
Ara was so right. I have always had a problem with those, what were they called again? Voltrons, yes voltrons. Those ones that sit behind their computers and cell phones, or was it in front of it they sat? Wherever they sat didn't matter. What mattered was that they kept shouting, ranting, criticizing. They thought they were doing a lot. They were doing nothing. And I was becoming one of them.
"Would you die for her?" I looked up abruptly from the book I was reading both from surprise at the question and irritation from the disturbance.
"Who?" I raised my eyebrow. "Why will I want to die for anyone?"
"Your country. Will you die for her?"
"Wait! Just wait! When did the country become female? Don't tell me you're crushing on 'her'."
"Jealous?"
"Huh? Ewww. That's just so wrong. Why would I be jealous if you're crushing on a female?"
"Ok, so answer the question."
I thought about the question for a while. I had read the book by the great storyteller from the Eastern part of the country. It was not a work of fiction. It was a record for history. Some of the things I read in that book had given me shivers. I wondered if we really were one entity. And right in my hands, at the time Ara chose to ask his question was another book detailing the innards of the same country. The instant answer that flew into my head was a solid no. But I paused.
"I don't have a direct answer to that question Ara. But I have many points that will build up to a conclusion."
"Let's hear it."
"Does my country protect her children? There are so many kids on the street who have no business being there. They should be in school during those hours and after hours, be in their parents houses enjoying parental cover."
"But you know the society can never be balanced that way. There will always be those in need. There will always be the rich and the poor."
"You're such a wet blanket. Is a young woman not permitted to dream? Please walk out of my head."
Ara burst into laughter. He laughed till he rolled off the chair. His mirth had no effect on me.
"Funny you'd say that, considering I live in your head."
He was right. I shook my head, trying to shake him off. But he was in the chair, he wasn't in my head. Or, was he? Whatever.
"So, are you ready to listen now?" I asked.
"Oh please dream on."
"Kids that should be provided for have become the sole providers for their families. Whatever they sell on those streets is what their entire family subsists on. You know, I sometimes just stop to give them money, just because. I wish I could take them all off the road and into a big beautiful house where they would never ever lack again."
"That's noble. But, is it the children that will determine the extent of love you have for your country?"
"Well, they're one point. I think of justice and its miscarriage. The courts should be the hope of the common man. But the same court has put behind bars common persons that stole food to stay alive and set free 'entitled' treasury looters that should face the firing squad and shot bit by bit till they dried up at the stake."
"That's some really intense feeling there. How long have you been thinking this?"
"Everytime I see their bloated faces in the papers or their overfed round bodies on the screen."
"How do I survive inside that head of yours?"
"Aren't you feeding off my imagination?"
"I am your imagination."
"Can you stop talking? I haven't even answered the question yet."
"I already know your answer. Stop bemoaning an already bad situation. I know you love your country but you can't stomach all that isn't going fine."
"You would know, won't you?"
"So, get the thoughts out there and make them workable, stop grumbling within yourself. It changes nothing. Get up and be that change you wish to see."
Ara was so right. I have always had a problem with those, what were they called again? Voltrons, yes voltrons. Those ones that sit behind their computers and cell phones, or was it in front of it they sat? Wherever they sat didn't matter. What mattered was that they kept shouting, ranting, criticizing. They thought they were doing a lot. They were doing nothing. And I was becoming one of them.
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