#Surrendered. The hashtag says it all. The impact of ISIS and its invasion in sleepy little towns of Africa and the Middle East has shocked the world. Yet, the effect largely remains passive, subdued, like a low rumble roaring at rare occasions when throttled or ignited by an external force. We sit in our homes wondering life in such hostile conditions or more aptly the lack of it. As many adjectives as it takes to attribute authenticity to such a situation, it comes nowhere to reveal the raw drag of lives reduced to survival at any and all costs. It’s a constant struggle to escape dreary consequences of punishments, effective immediately. The image posted by photojournalist Nadia AbuShaban, on twitter went viral within minutes which shows a child barely 4 or 5, with hands in the air visibly frightened at the sight of a camera pointed at her. The SHOOT however, was different. The bullet has landed in our insulated imagination. What she mistook for a gun might as well have been so. What is most striking is the normalcy of it. There is no pleading, no curiosity, and no terror in her eyes, an almost haunting familiarity attained through a weathered perspective, the flipside of awareness. Her automatic response is to give in, without a fight. Children are synonymous with purity, blessed with a clear conscience, which is eroded over time, akin to normal wear and tear. They have no concept of fear, death, pain, religion, wars, nothing except their experiences and the environment that moulds their understanding of the world. It is quite heart wrenching to draw a parallel between contrasting lives of children all over the world. It would be the intimate similarities making maximum impact. The divide is so profound, for some the idea of childhood is all but lost. There is one, ‘protected’ in the shelter of his/her home, the other is ‘protected’ via submission, to an idea ravaging all paths to attaining the core values of humanity. It’s not unfathomable to entertain the idea of such children being dragged into the net of violence and vicious circle of fundamentalism never having introduced to the value of reason, rationale and science or the simple joys of freedom. It is said that what you don’t know cannot hurt you. Unfortunately, we do not exist in isolation and ignorance is not bliss. While it may be impossible to completely understand the ramifications of such open mindedness about death, violence, or simply silent conclusions, we cannot sit back and be a global audience. There is a large mad world out there slowly going to pieces in the name of unity and democracy. Religion isn’t wreaking havoc. Principles aren’t uprooting countries. God was never brought into the dialogue. It’s the age of ‘Butterfly Effect’, one that started from the inception of civilization and we never managed to repair the wings or recover from the first hurdle. The curse of man’s ego. Clash among titans, for power, territory, sovereignty is the truth of our existence, except now it’s invaded our minds, restructuring our rational DNA. We destroy by action, weapons and rectify with words, heal by explanation. She looks on, lips pursed, waiting for the inevitable Our focus has long been shifted from creation in cohesion, to creation at the cost of others. We destroy. We plunder. We rummage through the rubble to fix blame, all the while ignoring that one leads by example. Children are like blank canvases, slowly taking shape of a picture portrait. When you start to become friends with fear, it becomes the reigning emotion in life. What has been done to you shall be done to others. Imagine how profound and confusedly accurate her definition of death must be to know that the machine (A gun) is a tool to end all things. An object to be feared. The wicked toy with an ability to silence someone forever. It is terror inducing enough to realize she might have witnessed something to subdue her curiosity to make peace with the ultimate action performed by the said gun. It’s an uncomfortable thing to teach a child to fear a gun, to run away when the loud bangs of crackling gunpowder envelop the sky, and to teach them it’s not a luxury, no fireworks, just raging fire and evil works. The sudden urge to SAVE your life, to come to terms with mortality, to hide and escape, just the knowledge that a sudden loud noise, or the particular contraption can cause infinite pain is the beginning of the end. There are stages in life one must live to appreciate the value and weight of the past, present and future. The open joy of childhood. The experimentation of youth. The wisdom of adulthood. All of that is replaced by one reigning emotion. Survive, At All Costs. While they count each day daydreaming about change, such children in their war torn homelands play with bullet shells, toss mortar heaps, crusade like winners across dusty rubbles competing in hopscotch, all the while aware of an imminent danger constantly looking over their backs. There are numerous factions fighting the same battle, for freedom, to establish the people’s voices, safety, and independence, for home, while displacing millions, enslaving thousands and robbing them of their innermost quality of innocence. The war torn lands of Syria has suffered at the hands of ISIS since 2011, but the seed of doubt and fanaticism was sowed long before the tentacles of strife claimed the soul of these dying and dead places, facing the all-consuming eventuality of being buried with the rest. It’s not just a picture. It’s a reflection of reality. The version of truth we have managed to inure ourselves from. We recoil at the mere mention of atrocities against children. But what if those atrocities are invisible. The fear is still real. Death is an eventuality and an issue to be addressed when you have tasted life. Violence is not a way of life. Tears should be for losing toys, and not grieving separation from friends and family. You hide under beds out of mischief, make noise to create trouble, not to save yourself from hunters and looters and to cry for help. We’ve come a far way, easing into the idea of suffering as part of life, and even more so when it’s so far away from our backyards. Trouble can strike anywhere. She is our child. Our responsibility. We are all entitled to have hope. We need to extend some of it to this child. We need her to smile, and not just for the camera. We need her to feel safe again. We must save the children. Here is a glimpse into reality. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zsjL3PLHQi8 PR Professionals
