The more you think of it, the more you get disillussioned.
The other side of you rejoice while the other side loathes
The other side of you rejoice while the other side loathes
Sunday, 25 March 2012
Thursday, 1 March 2012
An Army
Its been almost 2 years since I haven't seen a person with uniform. All these years I never knew that the very word “army” terrifies me bad to the bone.
Every morning, I saw pictures of armies and blood in the front page of all the four papers my dad subscribed. My mom would always scold us for not doing the morning chores but instead wasting the time reading the papers leisurely. Garlands of lies run all throughout the paper. Beads of words where horrible lies are embedded jumped up in front of my eyes whenever I read in the morning. It made my eyes hurt, more than the morning bright sun in a summer morning. There is also a column where they write down all the good deeds done by the army in Imphal Free Press. I never bother to read that. What's the point!
At 7 in the night, there is the radio news. I wonder if they are still listening to it. I suppose they must be. My absence wouldn't make that much of a difference. And then the 9 o'clock news in the local channel, ISTV 1, which is repeated again at 10 o'clock in ISTV 2. Once, they showed the damped body of Lungnila Elizabeth pouring out from the yellowish sack, her leg spreading in a distorted oval shape. She was a girl of 8 who was being raped and killed by some unknown persons and left in a sack near a swamp.
But they dint show the breast-less body of Manorama. I bet they did capture a video of it. We could have seen the flat chest she got after they cut her breast with whatever they used. I heard they took her inside the camp at Kangla. There is a place where they torture whoever they arrest without the memo, it seems. Like a darkroom. No, actually far more creepier than that. I was a kid then.
Recently, everyone was talking about Rabina, only some 4, 5 years back. She was killed in an open fire by the commandos which was supposedly to be an encounter with the insurgents. The so called insurgent was a guy of around 25 who came to buy medicine for his sick father. He was in a revolutionary group years ago, as well as been surrendered years ago and trying to lead what you called a normal life. The woman's swelled stomach could be seen distinctly. It was looking rather beautiful just above the pink and black horizontal lines. Her 4 years old son was looking around with a clear shinny eyes beside her before the elder woman took him to her lap and tried to comfort.
I didn't see this with my own eyes. I heard them. I saw in the pictures only. But I never knew I could be scared just at the mention of the word “army”.
Me and Pamir has been selling the university t shirt for a month now. I cant even sleep properly. They just keep knocking the door. And some of them doesn't have that much sense that they should take off their footwear while coming inside. It pisses me off.
Today, I was taking a nap just after the class when the Nokia ring tone suddenly started. I forgot to change it to Norwegian wood. I cut the call. Again it rang, I was frustrated. It turned out to be a guy with a very irritating voice. His words sounded like a forwarded video. I couldn't make out anything except that he is someone who wants to take the t shirt. He came to the room after sometime.
When I opened the door I realized that his voice doesn't suit the face at all. He asked me to give him one more extra shirt which he dint order. We didn't have any. I was looking for his name in the list of people who ordered when he starting blabbering about himself. I came to know he is an army and they are sponsoring the PGDTC courses in our university. The sound of A ,R, M ,Y together clicked and gave me the creeps. Ice down my spine. I lost consciousness. I couldn't apprehend what was happening. But I was standing and talking to this man. He offered me to let me buy things in cheap prices from the canteen.
The next minute, he was gone along with two extra t shirts. I gained consciousness and found out I am psychologically affected and a weakness added.
Every morning, I saw pictures of armies and blood in the front page of all the four papers my dad subscribed. My mom would always scold us for not doing the morning chores but instead wasting the time reading the papers leisurely. Garlands of lies run all throughout the paper. Beads of words where horrible lies are embedded jumped up in front of my eyes whenever I read in the morning. It made my eyes hurt, more than the morning bright sun in a summer morning. There is also a column where they write down all the good deeds done by the army in Imphal Free Press. I never bother to read that. What's the point!
At 7 in the night, there is the radio news. I wonder if they are still listening to it. I suppose they must be. My absence wouldn't make that much of a difference. And then the 9 o'clock news in the local channel, ISTV 1, which is repeated again at 10 o'clock in ISTV 2. Once, they showed the damped body of Lungnila Elizabeth pouring out from the yellowish sack, her leg spreading in a distorted oval shape. She was a girl of 8 who was being raped and killed by some unknown persons and left in a sack near a swamp.
But they dint show the breast-less body of Manorama. I bet they did capture a video of it. We could have seen the flat chest she got after they cut her breast with whatever they used. I heard they took her inside the camp at Kangla. There is a place where they torture whoever they arrest without the memo, it seems. Like a darkroom. No, actually far more creepier than that. I was a kid then.
Recently, everyone was talking about Rabina, only some 4, 5 years back. She was killed in an open fire by the commandos which was supposedly to be an encounter with the insurgents. The so called insurgent was a guy of around 25 who came to buy medicine for his sick father. He was in a revolutionary group years ago, as well as been surrendered years ago and trying to lead what you called a normal life. The woman's swelled stomach could be seen distinctly. It was looking rather beautiful just above the pink and black horizontal lines. Her 4 years old son was looking around with a clear shinny eyes beside her before the elder woman took him to her lap and tried to comfort.
I didn't see this with my own eyes. I heard them. I saw in the pictures only. But I never knew I could be scared just at the mention of the word “army”.
Me and Pamir has been selling the university t shirt for a month now. I cant even sleep properly. They just keep knocking the door. And some of them doesn't have that much sense that they should take off their footwear while coming inside. It pisses me off.
Today, I was taking a nap just after the class when the Nokia ring tone suddenly started. I forgot to change it to Norwegian wood. I cut the call. Again it rang, I was frustrated. It turned out to be a guy with a very irritating voice. His words sounded like a forwarded video. I couldn't make out anything except that he is someone who wants to take the t shirt. He came to the room after sometime.
When I opened the door I realized that his voice doesn't suit the face at all. He asked me to give him one more extra shirt which he dint order. We didn't have any. I was looking for his name in the list of people who ordered when he starting blabbering about himself. I came to know he is an army and they are sponsoring the PGDTC courses in our university. The sound of A ,R, M ,Y together clicked and gave me the creeps. Ice down my spine. I lost consciousness. I couldn't apprehend what was happening. But I was standing and talking to this man. He offered me to let me buy things in cheap prices from the canteen.
The next minute, he was gone along with two extra t shirts. I gained consciousness and found out I am psychologically affected and a weakness added.
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