This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 34; the thirty-fourth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "Of-Course, I'm insane"
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How else will I explain my inglorious life to my maker? Can
I tell HIM I was too naïve to know the difference between a murderer and a
martyr? Can I tell HIM that I was just another rootless, jobless desperado who
was willing to kill in the name of religion? How will I explain the blood on my
hands, that of countless innocent victims, whom I slaughtered in the name of my
maker? Will HE understand that all of this was for a starving, naked, roofless
family? That family, which now disowns
me...
Disowned by my country, shunned by my village and forgotten
by my family, this is not how I wanted to live and die. I did not want to be
wasted like this, disenfranchised, impoverished, uneducated and frustrated,
with nothing at stake and no one to call my own. Becoming nothing but a mere
puppet!
When I was a kid, I never saw a puppet
show. I never played with puppets or had any interest in them. Maybe if I had,
I would have known what it is like to be pulled on a string. I've never had anyone
put on a puppet show to convince me of anything. But the moment when you let someone run your life
is the moment when you have become a puppet in someone else's world. I've been
a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, and a pawn; I've been up and down and over and
out, and I know one thing now; my existence was absolutely worth nothing!
I wonder if my father got the piece of land and the pot of
gold that lured me here. I wonder if my sisters have been able to get married
and my mother cured of her ailments. I wonder if they know I will be dead as
dawn breaks.
Now as I lie down shifting uneasily, I pray that the dawn
never breaks. I can smell death around the corner. It is sneaking in and its
all encompassing laughter terrifies me. No one can confidently say that he will
be living tomorrow, but to know that I will actually not be is unnerving. I was trained to be unafraid, so I wonder why I am? Then
I realize I am not as afraid of death as I am of meeting my maker...
While I thought I was learning
how to live, I was actually learning how to die. And
now I can only hope Death releases me from the impressions of the senses, and
from desires that made me their puppets, from the vagaries of the mind, and
from the hard service of the flesh. I hope that from my rotting body,
flowers shall grow and lovely blue butterflies shall flutter around and I am in them and that will be eternity.
As I
try not to think of how my body will jerk violently as the noose tightens
around my neck and how I will feel the breath ebb slowly out of my body, I
wonder, ‘Was I really insane?’
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The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: BLOGGER NAME, Participation Count: 01
