This is in response to Sadje’s Weekly Photo Prompts on #Whatdoyousee.
We mingled noiselessly the way a soluble gets diffused in water seamlessly. Those rows and rows of men and women , almost a crowd, but so still and quiet… seemingly dead….lifeless. Their faces upturned towards the sky . Their eyes closed. A portraiture of unshakeable faith. As though nothing could go amiss in their world of rooted belief. So complacent and comfortable in their make-beliefs.
We had, on the other hand , forgotten who we were because they told us who we should be. They with their unquenchable thirst for mayhem. Their blood lust made them all pervasive. They taught us how to encroach, infiltrate and invade. They instilled in us the insatiable quest for the macabre… the gruesome. They inculcated in us that overpowering hunger for annihilation which chillingly rose up our spines like the call of the heathen as soon as we saw goodness, kindness, calmness and beauteousness. That which bonded made us uneasy. That which broke gave us peace. We were the odd ones out. And that united us , made us unique, different, proud and formidable.
We loved our brutal weapons of venomous tongue and twisted blades. We loved when tears spilled and hearts tore. We loved holocaust. We loved when we were required to catastrophically act because we de-constructed myths and re-constructed doom in ways unthought of. We were the death eaters of the muggle(d) civilisation – the “Knight Templars” of “He Who Should Never Be Named”.
The clock struck the hour. It was time to strike. We stepped forward in unison when something stopped us … pulled us back. Turning around we saw a tiny being its petal like fingers clutching merely an inch of our flowing garb. Eyes drenched in innocence , agog with curiosity. Its soft lips moved ever so slightly and words trickled like dew drops, “Who are you?” It asked as if it were that simple to piece in this puzzle.
In that prayerful silence the question rang like a loud, thunderous bell . Every eye closed till now had opened wide. Startled…woken to reality… suddenly alert. Hours stopped by and the music of time was strangled in mute defiance. All eyes bore down on us with the same question that swirled in air like the echo of a footfall in an ancient, decrepit, sepulchral tomb. And that was one thing we dreaded ….disliked… disapproved the most – that was attention….awareness of our funereal presence!!! We took pride in striking unaware. The aftermath? We wore it like a medal.
We were not coached to converse. We were not trained to be courteous. We were skilled to either wreak havoc or swiftly escape…flight came to us as easily as a bird’s swoop and soar. And we did right that.
It was the most opportune moment to abscond…
This is such an evocative story Geeta. It combines the reality of our cruelty with the surreal gruesomeness of fiction. Thanks for joining in.
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Thank you Sadje. It mirrors sadly our contemporary world
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You’re very welcome.
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आज के दौर की क्या तस्वीर खींची हे गीताजी आप ने
‘We loved when tears spilled and hearts tore’,is the reality of today’s world.
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Yes, Nusrat. It is lamentable but it’s the reality we live to hate
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Such evocative storytelling beautifully layered and impossible to forget. ❤️
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Thank you so much Rajeshwari. Humbled by your appreciation.
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A true portrait of our times.
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A haunting and beautifully crafted piece. The contrast between blind destruction and quiet faith is striking, but it is the innocent question—*”Who are you?”*—that becomes the story’s most powerful weapon. It reminds us that awareness and self-reflection can disarm even the darkest forces. Thought-provoking, evocative, and lingering long after the last line.
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Thank you so much Indrajit for your incisive permeation into the underlying essence of the brief sketch of contemporary world of unmitigated devastation and the unabashed owning of responsibility for the same. Such deep, meditative reading makes my efforts worthwhile and humbles me as a writer. Indebted.
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Powerful imagination
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Thank you so much Derrick ☺️
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Great writing, Geeta!
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Thank you so much Chris. Your words mean a lot.
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A powerful and haunting piece. The shift from silent menace to a child’s simple question was brilliant—it turned the entire narrative on its head. Thought-provoking and beautifully written.
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Thank you so much Maha. I am glad how you have approached the crux with ease. Though innocence is at stake in today’s world , I think it’s an asset which should be preserved. And we should , as adults, never forego our right to question the logic behind indoctrination and brazen pursuit of mindless destruction.
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[…] Geeta; The strike […]
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