I'm not thinking so much about what to write. I'm more concerned about how to write what I want to write. So many people have written so many millions of words over the past few weeks... expressing shock, disgust, concern, solidarity, angst, anger, hatred, murderous instincts - and every other emotion that one can think of when a heinous act of crime gets out of control and focus, and gains an enormous amount of propaganda.
Wait a second... what am I trying to prove here? That I'm in some way superior to the rest of the human(e) race? That I've a heart while all those umpteen others have a stone in its place? Nah, I'm only trying to understand what is there to 'Like' about a crime of such violence and magnitude?
And now, after all this dichotomy, she finally rests in peace under a piece of earth, wrapped in a piece of cloth... probably with a know-it-all smile of a witness-to-a-never-ending-hysterical-drama!
Strangely, I'm happy for her. I'm happy that it's all over. For her and for me. The pain, the agony, the protest marches, the lathi charges, the anger, the 24X7 almost-live coverage, the (unwanted) attention - yes, unwanted and unnecessary attention because she didn't ask for any of it - the solidarity, and everything else.
And now, I can peacefully go back to doing whatever else I want/ used to - both online and offline. I can read (about) Happiness or 50 Shades of Grey as mindlessly as I watch(ed) the crime scene after the recent bomb blast in Hyderabad while sipping piping hot chai; I can groove to my favorite music while enjoying a Valentine's Day surprise dinner at a plush restaurant of a star hotel; I can engage in gossip about the murder of an acquaintance by her husband and come up with theories on whether it was really a murder or just a suicide; I can cook up the family's favorite meal, including dessert, and relish it without feeling guilty about the calories being downed; I can watch Tom & Jerry some zillionth time on telly and laugh out loud like a child - without a care in/about the world.
Oh that reminds me - what was my answer when baby S asked me: 'Amma, what happened in Delhi... all adults are talking about it?' I remember I told her something. I DID tell her something... but what was that? There I go blank again! Short term memory loss I guess! (My) Memory is such a fleeting thing. And Public memory? Uff forget it! Let's not get into theories and waste our time. Let's just go back to doing what we're good at - FORGET AND MOVE ON.
Love to all and peace to the entire world - minus the girl-who-died-at-last!