“Most of us can read the writing on the wall; we just assume it’s addressed to someone else.” wrote Ivern ball. The recent dastardly blasts in Jaipur sadly confirms this saying. While bodies still lay unclaimed, while families are yet to come to terms with the horror that has hit them, while reality is yet to sink in, the now jaded reaction drama is in full swing. Speeches are made about the spirit and resilience of the people of the land; blame game have begun targeting other political parties, and other nations. Sops are promised out to grieving families, wonder how many will actually reach the right hands, and wonder how money can heal loss.
The innumerable intelligence agencies are pointing fingers at each other. VIP’s are planning visits to the maimed city and thus ensuring front page coverage hence displacing all the disturbing and embarrassing issues making us almost wonder about how well timed the blasts seem to be. And international sympathy is surging.
The writing is on the wall but we all look away. Every day in our own city there are rapes of children and vulnerable women, carjacking have become the order of the day, murders for a few pennies abound, neighbours kill neighbours for a handful of coins, road rage is rampant.
The writing is on the wall as walls visible and invisible are built to widen the gap between caste, creed, or social status ; new malls and stores multiply with quantum leaps while tiny businesses are sealed and road vendors banned in the name of aesthetics.
The writing is on the wall but we just assume it is written for someone else as we carry on unabashedly, stopping maybe just for that small instant to mumble a few appropriate but empty words.
And yet everything points at the indubitable and unavoidable reality that all is not well in the world we live in. That sooner than later all of this may just happen to us, that we are not protected by impregnable walls. It is time to read the writing on the wall and accept that it is for each one of us.
