home - where is my home?

My mother called up my sister the other night - she wanted us to take care, i guess she was frightened there would be a backlash in the light of the killings of migrant workers in Manipur.

i could go on and on about how disgusting i find it – no, not my mother’s concern, the killings. But does it help any?

All i can think about is how ugly the place i call home has become – no, let me rephrase that, how ugly the people have made the place i call home. People – does that exclude me? i am, after all, one of them. But how do the acts of a few morons reflect on me?

Do i love the place i was born in? Yes, without a doubt. But do i want to go back? – No, not with all that ugliness. Am i running away from my responsibility? – Possibly. Imphal, unfortunately, has become a place that has lost its conscience. The people have made it so. Does my not protesting (but how do i do that? Do i shout out from the rooftop at those mindless thugs with guns?) make me one of them?

i hate these people who think of themselves as saviours of our society. We are much better off without them. Thank god i did not grow up with people dictating me what to wear, what language to speak, what to watch, what to read. They steal, they kill and all in the name of bettering our society. Which society will progress with such people at the helm? And the bitter truth is, they are there to stay.

Home – it is just a sweet memory now. i know i will never go back except for short sweet holidays. How much sadder could it get?