Am I Home?

It is 1970. Civil War. The longest running and perhaps, the most ignominious in the history of human tragedies.

No war in the history of mankind has been kind. In fact, the ruthlessness lies in the aftermath, not in the ways of war.

In the wake of demands for a separate state, separate constitution and independence from the autocrats, innocent lives were lost and several rendered homeless. Thousands were displaced and we have never seen them again. I guess, we will never see them. But hopes don’t die, they are not meant to die. 

I have hopes too. I hope to see the light at the end of the unknown tunnel. I hope to see my family again. I want to see my daughter going to school again. I want my wife to wait for me when I return from work. I want my parents to feel proud that their son is doing well for himself in life. I want my siblings to visit us every week for dinner. I want the kids to play around in the garden. I want those moments back. I want to live those moments again. I want to live again.

As it stands today, we are separate souls in search of our soul mates. Our families are scattered or lost, our homes have been bombed, our workplace is a no-place now. Our industries are dead because we have no one to run them. Our economy doesn’t exist, or may be it does.

The war has ravaged our spirits, along with our land and its wealth. I feel I have lost my identity. I feel the credibility of being an accomplished is lost. I have the urge to live but how? I have the insatiable in me to survive but for who? Yes, the war is for us. But am losing grip over the factual representation of this calamity. Am I fighting an enemy in flesh and bones or am I battling my demons within? No sleep, but I have lost sanity.

Our city has turned in to an island of gaping quicksand. And with us, everything around is dying. Obscured death, if I can say what it is.

30 years later…

I am in Chester, UK. I own a convenience store, managed by me and my wife. My son is a freelancer and occasionally visits our store. My daughter is married to a British and they live in Liverpool.

Yes, I have a life. My family has been returned to me amidst chaos and catastrophe. In fact, I am one of the few who have emerged alive from the clutches of war and violence.

I feel, I have seen it all. But I am still not home. I know for a fact, I will never make it. 

There is no home, we have enclosures and we are breathing.

Published by lifeoholic

Flamboyance meets me, and I could be contagiously luring. It kind of comes off in my writing, as my stories of passion and indulgence unfold.

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