Tired! How awfully tired I am!
Flapping my wings tirelessly for a couple of hours, with no grain of food and no drop of water in my mouth; just trying to escape from the bullets, the cannonballs and the shells; And the noise! Each uproar of a weapon seems as an attempt to stop my little heart from pounding. The sky looks all grey, and filled with smoke, gunpowder and dust. Horrendous! Just Horrendous.
They call it a ‘War’.
They call it source of their triumph.
They call it their victory.
I call it the doom. I call it the doom of humanity.
I am native to this place, and have my nest in the terrace of the house, where Fahim and his family lives. A very few houses are still standing tall, and haveresidents in them. All around the city, there are piles of debris, with rotting dead bodies in them. Every moment, invaders with deadly weapons try to enter the city and capture it; but the dwellers are very strong, and each day, they are valiantly defending their territory.
They are almost at the end of the ‘War’. The war, which has taken countless lives and have made thousands homeless.
Fahim is a journalist. He stays with his parents, siblings, wife and children. He is a brave man. Every night he leads a group of men, patrolling the city, to save the others. He keeps constant contacts with the international media, and informs them about the advancements in the city. He is a hero in my eyes. He is a selfless man, who is proud of his ethnicity and culture, and fights to defend it; even at the cost of his own life.
Abdul, man in his late sixtieshas lost everything to the hands of the enemy but still continues to fight till the last drop of blood. He leads a group of armed men to the northern part of the city, which leads to the border with another country. He still believes that he will free his land from the occupiers, and every morning while smoking tobacco he narrates to himself his plans of living after the ‘war’ ends.
Zanyar is the twenty-five-year-old young and brave lady, who commands the all-woman wing of the forces. She has the notionthat this war is just a psychological tactic, and battle of morals. She believes that the enemy fears women, and are doubly demoralized when they see women with guns defending their city, they are compelled to take a step back. Like this, she is proving herself and protecting the city and its people; every day.
These are just a handful of people among the thousands, who are today united to fight with the enemy, who are indeed stronger than them; but they have kept their spirits high and are determined to win.
Now the question arises, why am I so keenly observing them?
Why an Ave like me is narrating about the war-struck humans?
All because we yearn for peace. We all are waiting for the ‘war’ to stop. We all are waiting for a new dawn to usher happiness in the people.
But alas!
Everyday my friends are dying, and no one has the time to lament. Just some gunshots or mortars in reply, and they will launch another explosive and the sound would make the consequent silence, to be dared to infringe.
All the people who are fighting against the evils, are my friends. They symbolize me as their aim and the source of will-power, perhaps they like my white feathered body!
The situation is getting intense every day.
The sky seems to lose more and more blue, and the air seems to be more and more saturated with gunpowder.My eardrums now have become reactionless from hearing the sounds; the constant repercussions of the same monotonous firings.
I recently have learnt from the men, that the dark days of conflict, might get over with some foreign aid from the neighbours. Many families have fled the land, deserting their homes with no hope to come back. They also are to be brought back.
They are fearless.
Fearless to lay their lives and bleed to death under the sun.
Their victory is expected to come within a few days, and at the cost of humanity, bulldozed city buildings and as a result of courage, valour and perseverance of the native fighters, the enemy will have to retreat; and finally, the war-struck and tireless people will get peace in their life. This is only the very final hour of fight, and I have faith in them that today’s gunshots will once usher happiness and peace in their life.
Today might be the final day of the ‘war’.
The enemy have almost seceded from the land and the natives are seemingly victorious. Plans are being made to quickly reconstruct the city and to bring back the refugees.
Finally, they have found ‘peace’.
The peace, to which they originally belong and have fought for so long. Leaders from all over the world are congratulating them on their success and wishing them a good luck for their future days. They have the dreams of again walking on the tracks of life with the bonding of love, where the sky will be as blue as their crystal-clear blue eyes, and the bullets will be replaced by the warm rain drops, and the yellow pollen from the flowers shall replace the destructive gunpowder of ‘war’.
And I?
Where will I go?
I will fly to another war-struck city, where the people are fighting against the evil. I will be the silent observer of another victory of peace in any other part of the world; spreading peace everywhere and inspiring everyone on their fight for peace.
I know, one day the whole world will dwell in peace and no gun will be fired to take other’s lives. I don’t dream this; but this is my peaceful vision of the future.
Why?
Because I am the white-feathered dove, the proud flag bearer of peace!
[Inspired by the struggle between the Syrian-Kurdish Fighters and the ISIL Terrorists in 2014-2015 for the city of Kobane, Northern Syria, which was eventually won by the Syrians, with foreign aid.]
By: – Upamanyu Basu
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