As he watched the clip of young Ishaan sing Bob Dylan’s Blowing in the Wind, he couldn’t help but admire the young man’s voice. He loved this song. He always felt the song was hauntingly beautiful, and Ishan’s voice added another layer of innocence to it.
But as he listened to Ishan sing, he thought how much this song resonated in today’s time when the world, his country was descended into chaos. Ishan’s innocence made the song feel even more melancholic.
He could feel a deep resentment building within himself. A feeling of hopelessness, a feeling of helplessness, a frustration that lead to anxiety. He could feel an Anger that threatened to let itself loose, like fire from Drogon when he laid waste to Kingslanding.
And as the song asked some poignant question who couldn’t help himself but think on the same lines. He wondered how many more people would need to get infected, needed to die, need to suffocate before the ones in hire power to acknowledge that they have lost the plot, they are grossly incompetent, they have no clue? How long they will be worried about their image, which they wanted to keep intact at all cost, to the extent of trying silence the voices of descent, criticism, refusing to believe, ignoring facts ans numbers and advice.
How long would they keep turning a blind eyes? How long would they live in denial and keep making head scratching statement that everything is alright, everything is better than last year, there’s surplus and everything was in stock? How long will they cry themselves hoarse on an external conspiracy to malign the ones in power?
How many more funeral pyres need to burn before they realise that their hands are crimson red of the blood of those who lost their lives because their apathy? The dead may not have a voice, but dead surely know, and the thought them will continue to haunt you for the years to come. And though they may say that the dead don’t count, not realising that the dead represent a life that could be saved if it weren’t for their negligence, if it weren’t for their false ego, their image, their mistrust .
How could religious events, poll rallies, sporting events go on unabaited? Do we even need them. When a country that’s struggling to come to terms, come to grips of the lives lost in the pandemic, how could someone justify the need for this? Were these people blinded by the flames of the funeral pyres, the smoke blocking their senses. He knew karma will catch up with them. He hoped that it didn’t take so long time. He wasn’t a vengeful person, but in this case, he couldn’t help himself.
He wondered how long would they keep trying to silence of the truth through intimidation and fear? Don’t intimidate the people so much that they stop fearing them, and taking a stand would be the only option. An then there would be hell to pay, cause like the North, people remembers and they, like the Lannisters, will pay by their debts.
But he was afraid that people had memories like goldfish, were all Dories, easily forgetting things they should remember and make the ones pay for the transgressions against them. But it was the people who had stepped up and came to the help of those in need, reaching out to those in need, forwarding requirements, posting them on their timelines and stories, doing their bit for one another. A job that those in power should have been doing.
He wondered what happened to those celebrities who parroted lines when image of the nation was questioned? Where were they now? Did they leave the country, flew coup, traveling to some exotic place, or just save and secure behind the comfort of their four walls? Will they ever grow a spine or balls, and take a stand? He didn’t know if they would ever do it.
There were so many questions swirling through his brain. He had this seething feeling of anger that welling in his chest. He wished the perpetrators would suffer the same faith, or an even worse faith. He was not afraid or surprised that he had these thoughts.
He wondered if the people would ever get the answers the seeked and would the ones I power ever take responsibility?
He closed his eyes as tears began to well in them. He could hear Ishaan singing...
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind
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