Weeping For Peace

By Kamala Sarup

I am walking alone on this road. It is lightly showering now, after a heavy rainfall. In the far distance, I could see cars' headlights. On a lonely and calm road, I was walking silently.

"Nights are generally fearful and dangerous. If possible, no one should walk during the night." Before, I didn't heed nor care about my father's words, but now I realized the importance.

In order to lead a disciplined life, sometimes the suggestions of elders play a vital role. "You have a letter from home," Navina my room mate handed over a damped letter and left to take a hot bath. I opened the letter. It was from my old friend. It is raining outside and a slow breeze is entering the windows.

Everything is invisible in the dark. I could see no light in people's houses. I opened the letter and read.

"Everything is okay, our life living is in peril. I think there is no meaning of sympathy to Nepal's situation." My mind ordered me to stop in the second paragraph of the letter. It is raining heavily outside. The night has matured. I kept the letter under the pillow and managed to go to bed.

"It is already morning. Won't you get up?" Navina's harsh sound woke me. The sun has already crossed a long way into the day. The flowers blooming in earthen pots gave me a kind of pleasure and mental peace, but the peace inside in the mind, and that outside in the environment, is a very different situation.

The naked sun is producing heat outside. We can't exist here without hard labor. So, work is a must here. In leisure time, I compose the lines of poems.

I can see the road. The road is a road. It does not lose its track like the heart. This might be the prime feature of a road. This is the difference between heart and road. The vehicles and crowds make the road busy. The road never hesitates. How happy the people will be if the heart remains inflexible like the road.

I stop to watch the crowd and the children on this particular stretch of road. The streets are busy, teeming, and the people on the street are even busier. Nobody has time to think about others. Indeed, it is good to be busy, but what upsets me is that I find myself alone - alone among the people crowded on this road.

And now, yet again, I was watching the people walking on the road while I sit on the bench outside of my apartment. Like the people, my hands are busy; it is not cold outside. The environment is sad but somehow pleasing to look at. But I am feeling fear in my heart. A fear that is causeless and unknown, yet it makes me shiver.

I again opened my friend's letter. "We are in sorrow." she wrote. I immediately began to compose an e-mail.

I expect peace in the world. I want peace everywhere, only peace. Every people must get the chance to live in peace and harmony".

"Kam! Everything and one seems as if they are weeping for peace. I can't remember the moment when mothers wait for their young sons to return from the places of labor. The wives who are bound to accept their own widowhood at any time. How are they weeping, beating their hearts?" My friend's letter has made me serious and sympathetic.

"We have the right to live freely as the flowers live in the forest - the flowers which adds beauty in pride: I wrote in symbolic ways to my friend.

I am hearing a shrine, on my way to my apartment. People are in rush. They seem eager to meet their family members after a long day of tire some duty in their offices. Every human needs another human to lead life. At present, I am not thinking about life and death. I long to think about life and love. Life is a long journey, a never ending journey- I intend to compose a poem on love. So much love in my heart.

At present, I am taking a vow, "my journey must take a new turn. I am in a hurry to fly a white pigeon.

Kamala is an editor for www.mediaforfreedom.com. Her specialties are in-depth reporting and writing stories on peace and anti-war issues, women, terrorism, democracy and development. Some of her publications include: Women's Empowerment in South Asia, Nepal; Prevention of Trafficking in Women Through Media.