Just below the charminar lies a very tiny old Hindu temple. While the mosque nearby resonated Allah musicals, loud chants attracted Hindus.
Iftaar food on the streets and chameli flowers beaded in threads all lie there together. I wondered why so much police strolled the area.
Was it because it was a Hindu festival in ramazan month or because of the historical not so friendly friendship between the two religions.
I saw anxities on the faces of many. I saw happiness too. I saw poverty as limbless beggars approached travelers. I saw richness too.
I saw so many distinctions. But what shined the most in this land of confusions was the loss of humanity. Ppl were running away.
Running away from realities. Realities not that the govt has constructed for them. But realities of their birth. Not religion. Not land
In the bright day n loud music, in the crowd n chaos, the monument stood their witnessing yet another chaos. I stood there doing same.
How was then I different from the four pillars of charminar? Not old enough like them but as meaningless as it could be for any action.
Bricks, stones, heart, humans, all hav slowly turned synonymous. Witnesng events not so pleasant. Scared of conflict. Scarred by conflict
I wasn't alone there. I realized how everyone was beaded together by history and future. Even if they disliked. Trying to break free..
The chaos turned silent n I kept walking. Just another futile day of realizations and helplessness. That's how I romance with chaos!
- Diary of an Oxymoron
