| namita Kiran-thuene |
Posted
on 02-Mar-01 12:18 PM
Lamentation of a Mother
I open my weekly magazine and there it is. I opened my fresh newspaper, there it is again. The face of the death. A skeleton of an eight year old being carried away by his father. An one year old dead in his mother’s arm. The brutal face of the death. I read, and but cannot go on reading - accounts of death after death. Frozen to death, starved to death… It is happening in Afganistan. Millions are fleeing from starvation but end up dying nonetheless.
I want to throw up when I open my refrigerator. Filled with food. I hate myself for even having a computer for writing this. So many children are dying for not having enough food, and I plan an elaborate dinner to ‘entertain’ my friends! The Absurdity of simply living. Talking about literature, high art, and metaphysics where so many are dying. I want to run to the day care of my daughter and hug her until the end of time. I am not saving any of these children but I want to promise her I will try to save her until the end of my breath.
Why don’t we do something? Why don’t I do something? My eyes just wails up from seeing these pictures, reading these articles. Where are you Satre, Camus to take a refuge from these absurdities of the world? Does Veda or Upanishada say anything about these dispartity in this world? Some having so much and some dying having none! Buddha said the root of the misery is wanting. I don’t think these children, or their parents wanted so much that they had to go through this unimaginable grief. Is it too much to ask to have some food? Where is WHO? Why are they letting these children die? The world knew what was happening there. The fresh little graves in Herat, Maslakh want to know why did they have to die. I also want an answer.
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