I’m sitting here in the comfort of my home as I stuff my mouth with leftover lasagna from last night. All appears to be fine. My Instagram feed is glimmering with the #Decemberistan posts of happy people flashing the best of their smiles with a yellow floral background.
December is a time for tying knots, festivities, chai and pakoras, and pretty purplish hues of sunset. The late-night coffee runs in the comfort of our warm coats and holding hands, feeling safe in the presence of your loved ones. So many colors on my Instagram feed, from the brightest hues of red to the purple sunset. The warmth of coffee simmering from the cheap paper cups.
December is the time to celebrate, but this December has been a lot of contemplation for me with no end. From a murder in a student councils feud in my university, International Islamic University, to the announcement of death sentence for an innocent man accused of Blasphemy, to the 3 years old grey-eyed innocent child kidnapped and killed by his own family for an ordinary amount of ransom, to a prestigious university denying a rape of their student for the sake of upholding the reputation of their prestigious university.
How can one celebrate the union of two lovers in the warmth of a December sunny noon in the backdrop of warm yellow flowers? How can there be any warmth from the fire that is burning outside? This December, I have come to realize that the personal is political and the political is in fact personal. There’s so much condensed ice out there that no bonfire can be sustained for more than a day at most. We take in the warmth, sway to the groovy festive tunes, click pictures in front of the yellow floral backdrop and then it all ends when we go home to see our newsfeeds with the worst of the tragedies. Who needs to go to the cinema to experience the pity and fear of tragedy? We have it all at our fingertips.
I have also come to realize, while you should enjoy the bonfire at your home while it lasts, you should also be wary of the fire that’s impeding your door, almost knocking for help. The least we can do is raise our voices, though there has been a lot of caution regarding that as well. Do not give in to the cold, no matter how intense it gets. There’s still a little light left in the bonfire of your heart, don’t let it go. Hold on to it and do whatever little you can in the state of burning affairs. Together maybe with the little specks of light, we will light up the people lurking in the shadows of injustice. Let’s hold onto it and do whatever is possible in our capacity.
I believe the tiny speck of hope exists inside all of us, even if we deny it. Let’s hold on to it for a little while, until there’s no more need of it, but all of us turn into it. December has been the month of the loss of faith, hope, but it has also been the month in which I found out that I only have to do something in my capacity. I don’t believe in revolutions of nations, but I do believe in revolutions of people.
Let us all not close our eyes to the burning rage outside the comfort of our homes until the Gainday k Phool (marigolds) actually transfuse the fragrance of freedom and the warmth inside the festive homes feels safe for good.
The writer is an English literature student and an advocate of social change through words