I went to a place today that was very angry. Deep down, it was sad and hurting, but all it could express, was anger.
I do a lot of play with words when I write on this blog. And therefore a dictionary and a thesaurus are always around to help me find the accurate word. A few asked me after my return — how was it?
I do not have a word or words for that, even a phrase, a sentence, a paragraph or pages, will never be able to explain — how I felt.
I can tell you, however, there were many people, it was crowded.
I can tell you people were distributing free water bottles. I can tell you the police supported and were grateful to every man, woman and child who was there, in body or spirit. I saw tremendous respect in the eyes of the people as they looked at the uniformed personnel at the Taj. I can tell you that there were shivers of goose pimples for a few seconds every few minutes in that forty-five-minute walk that usually takes five minutes. I can tell you, I loudly and proudly sang the National Anthem, more times than I have sung it in the last ten years. I can tell you, there was sloganeering, candles on the streets and at the Gateway.
I can tell you all that I saw, that I did.
I cannot, but, tell you, how I felt.
Yet, a few new meanings were discovered that I hadn’t uncovered after having mined all dictionaries and thesauri.
Solidarity, for example. And fervour. Unity.
That last word has been an important word for me. All these days it meant my photo on some paper with my name, endorsed by a government official. It seems that one way to find your identity is to loose yourself in a crowd that is two hundred thousand strong. It emerges within you and engulfs you.
Many asked what will change? Some asked if this is all that we can do?
I don’t know.
What I know, however, is that for anything to start (and survive the test of time) there has to be a meeting of minds. A sense of purpose and a sense of ownership and knowledge of how you fit in.
Well, it just started; all, very well.