I don’t blog often. It is a combination of
personal choice, procrastination and laziness. I don’t have the discipline or
the energy to blog on a regular basis. And, I admit, a part of me holds these 500-word
‘articles’ in a bit of contempt. I think to myself: Why should I waste my time
writing 500-word posts when I could very well spend that time, writing a 50,000
word novel. Blogs are for people who are part-time writers.
But, last night, as I was lazily scrolling
through my Twitter feed in search of things I could Retweet in order to gain
followers or disseminate information I think should be shared, I started coming
across the hashtag #IndiaIsWithPakistan. 141 dead. I realized something awful
had happened. Again. I scrolled some more. A gentleman, who I do not want to
name, had very interesting views on moderation, women journalists and Sagarika
Ghose in particular who’d tweeted with that hashtag. There were about 50
replies to his comment.
Sagarika Ghose’s tweet had more RTs and
Favorites. The replies though were less.
I slept. It was late and I knew I had a
first draft to finish, so I went into slumber-land.
I didn’t tweet, or RT or Fave any of the
hashtags #IndiaIsWithPakistan or the others. I didn’t have enough information
on Twitter, nor the energy to Google for it. And I’d like to believe, I have
some kind of a vetting process before I RT anything to my 800-plus followers.
Today morning’s headlines are filled with
Child-Killers, those monsters of atrocities committed against mankind. X number
of people dead, including children and Y number of people injured, again,
including children. (The reason I am not using real numbers is because I don’t
know them myself, newsfeed is only as accurate as the people who disseminate
information through it). Besides, writing 131, 142, 121, it’s …it’s awful. They’re
kids, I think to myself. Kids, teenagers like my cousins studying in America, becoming
bright, shining lights that will, amen, set the world ablaze one day. Kids,
like my dearest heart, my little cousin who turns 6 on the thirtieth of this
month, who I watched being born. Kids, like my nephew who asks me for Lego
games every time we talk (it’s our thing). Just KIDS.
I turn the pages, read the International
section. Sydney Siege. The brave Tori Johnson and Katrina Dawson. Another
hashtag #IllRideWithYou. And next to it, in a small three-column, 250 word
article, an article about Yemen being bombed. Again.
I re-check my Twitter feed. Opinionators
ask a brilliant question: What is happening in the world? What is happening TO
the world?
I think to myself, how come we live in a
world where a terrible, terrible novel like Kingdom Come is not myth but
reality? How come Google provides information on how to make bombs or discount
purchase firearms and people are so fed-up and angry with each other that they’d
just as likely shoot each other as hug them? How come, ANY of us, ANY of us who
are framing the social conversation in whatever small way we can, opinionators
and citizen journalists who tweet #ItookADump #EpicFail or who fill their
Facebook Walls with inspirational quotes (myself included) in order to look ‘cool’
and ‘smart’ and mold ourselves to what society’s image of cool, smart, hep and other
generation X bullshit is, are talking about ANYTHING else but this?
I recently posted a picture on Facebook:
Don’t talk about it. The only way to do it is to live by example.
I have to make up my mind now. Will I use
my blog, my books, as a medium of framing social and political debate, in
however small a way I can, so that WHOEVER reads them (there are at least 4
people I know who will) and keep asking these questions until they get answered
or, will I forget about these tragedies and go on and figure out a way to write
the next bestseller with the smartest hook, maybe a black room and a gimp,
since erotica sells a LOT? The thing is; I got into writing when I was a kid,
GOD, that word again, because I had this insane idea that being a reporter
means I get to be part of saving the world.
As I grew older, I realized the world did
not want to be saved.
I am sincerely, sincerely hoping NO ONE
else gives up on that notion like I did, and we have more people asking the
questions that need to be answered, in books, in traditional media, on Social
Media, on political, economic and religious forums: Influencers and
policy-makers and people who understand the fundamental difference between “religion”
and “politics” and try to make the world a safer place for our kids to grow up
in. (Mr Modi, I hope you feel me.)
I know, this is a rant-post, or whatever is
the hashtag term for it. I still needed to write this. I just wish…I just wish
my apathy had not needed a tragedy to wake up for.
Till next time
Xx
Writer Gal
For everyone who wants to know more about what has happened: http://indianexpress.com/article/india/india-others/express5-16-year-old-from-peshawar-tells-terror-story-delhi-prays-protests-on-dec-16/
XX
Writer Gal
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