Religion, caste, color, creed, nationality, language, likes, dislikes, appearance, sexuality…
So many things that divide us, so many things to make us feel superior. And the one object of unification in all this mess? Every single one of these descriptions is that of a human being.
A person. A being of flesh and blood, with people he/she loves and who love him/her back.
Now think about what happened yesterday in Sri Lanka. Think of all the differences, all the whys of reason…and then delve deeper into the shadows hidden behind cold facts and figures.
In that shadowy space, like a cave that extends forever and seems to absorb any light that might stumble into it, you will find the image of crumbling buildings before your eyes, hear screams of terror and pain in your ears, and feel the rough texture of powdered debris on your skin.
In the middle of this chamber, from where you do not know, you’ll suddenly come across a slumped figure.
It wouldn’t be wearing any religious symbols, it wouldn’t be black or white or yellow. Its hair wouldn’t be blond or black, straight or corkscrew. It wouldn’t have breasts or a penis, full hips or hard abs, nor would it be tall or short, very far or very thin.
If your eyes were clear and your mind true, it wouldn’t be any of that. Or it would, and you wouldn’t notice.
For what you will see was that hollow look in its eyes, those tear tracks on its cheeks. You would notice that gash under its chin that ran red, the scratches on the back of its hands. Your eyes would take in the bruises on its neck and that wild tangle of hair, as if somebody had tried to wrench it out. You would want to lean forward and straighten that awkward twist in its broken leg, an irrational response, or brush a thumb on the swollen edge of its jaw.
That’s the figure of humanity, you would realize.
And somewhere, somewhere deep, deep down, you would know you did this.
—Aqsa