Ya, it ain't funny!!

I owned a shop in the centre of the city and I liked it so much. The entire population of Kamazha loved my shop. Kamazha was the financial capital of Tramasia, I thought my proficiency and fluency in English, Tramasi, Gefrew and Marark would gain me more popularity. They did! The hoarding on my shop building said “Ghalib’s klothe”. It meant “Ghalib’s Cloth Store”.The maximum population spoke Tramasi in Kamazha –that was our national language.
I was the best trader in town. I had my shops spinning dollars for me. I was getting rich. As I saw fortune favouring me, I thought of giving myself some peace and visiting my hometown. How much I missed Mararkaz. My mother-tongue Marark. And my mother –Isabelle. I wanted to go home and see her face once. Tell her of my well being. That was the place where I belonged to.

But the violence back home was reaching its peak. The mango growers were being put to death because our mangoes would ripe before our neighbors’. The neighboring country wanted the land on which the mangoes matured before anywhere else. This would mean more trade and more money. In northern Tramasia, the mangoes were indeed a craze. The mango farms were beautiful. They were said to be heaven on earth. The shades of yellow signified the bright sun. The green leaves complimented the beauty of Mother Nature.

In Kamazha there was no peace either. I wasn’t a Gefrew, though I spoke the language well.(Gefrew was the local language of Kamazha) I was asked to change the name of my shop to “Hail Gefrew klothe Shop”. The local volunteers wanted to ban the national language and use the local language. My customers would have suffered because I had people from all places, from all castes coming and buying clothes. The activists came to our shops and hit our salesmen. They wanted everything, every deal to be done in Gefrew. The numbers had to be in Gefrew, the lines drawn on our accounts book had to be in the local language. We were asked to drink water in Gefrew, walk in Gefrew, talk in Gefrew (ofocurse!!!) and live as if Gefrew would rule the world. The entire nation of Tramasia was being segregated into parts. On one end there were mango fields being seized, on the other end people were asked to leave their hometowns giving way to naxalites and here we were suffering because we chose to speak Tramasi or Marark over Gefrew.

The jingoism had reached it’s peak, when I thought it would be fair to kill the forbearers of such dastardly acts.
Today I read in the Gefrew Times that someone killed the local leader in the local language –Gefrew…

I sit in my shop staring beyond what seems visible.

My Gramphone plays the song :
Let there be peace on Earth and let it begin with me
Let there be peace on Earth, the peace that was meant to be
With God as our father,
Brothers all are we,
Let me walk with my brother,
In perfect Harmony…
Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me….

About this blog

It's all about being more expressive and speaking your heart out.

We don't do that much, do we?