He will be turning five next month and plans for a grand celebration were taking shape. Although they didn't own anything much, the family was ready to debt all for his happiness. His father was up and joyous, running like a kid across streets in search for the perfect gift. His mother was rummaging through supplies; she had suddenly found the need to cook up a delicacy; something which was a rarity now. She made her way to the city market, cutting across cracked roads, shattered houses and broken lives.
It has been three years now, and the sounds of shelling refuse to die out. The outbreak was inevitable but the outcome was not what it turned out to be. The outside world has been trying to broker a deal between the state and the society. But in the desert, sand dunes keep shifting over time. Originally thought to last over 18 months, the war has proved costly, as every war does. The only difference is that a civil war creates more bodies to be buried than an actual war. People are living their lives-go to work, do their daily activities, eat, sleep but in silence.
His father had joined the rebels, like many others who were antagonized by the functioning (non-functioning) of the government. Oppression and blatant abuse of power had the citizens seething in pain and anger. Then there were vested interest groups who wanted the government to topple over. However, protestation is one thing and rebellion is entirely different. This, they realized as the war progressed. The government didn't spare anyone who was even remotely related to the rebellion. Innocents had become a shooting game for snipers. Children were found lying dead, sometimes in the wombs of their mothers. People had suddenly come to terms with the situation. So it was nothing less than a miracle for him to survive till five. And to mark the celebrations, his father was in hunt for the perfect gift, something that will define his future.
-"I'll need a colt .47 with twelve rounds"
-"That's a very primitive piece of machinery sir. Let me show you some long-range ones"
-"It's ok. I already have a plenty. This is for my son, his first artillery!" he exclaimed with gleam in his eyes.
-"How old is your son? He may like to try a bigger gun"
-"It's a birthday gift. He'll be turning five soon. I'd like to start him with something small"
The salesman stared for a moment and nodded his head, "I'm sorry sir, you're at the wrong place. We sell war here, not peace."
-"Well I'm asking for something that will lead to peace in future. How do you deny selling that"
-"War may end the tyranny but it never has bought peace. Down the alley, there's a small shop. They keep random, old, stuff that everyone has discarded. Maybe, you'll find something from the past worth gifting your child, for his future. At least it'll better than a bullet"
It has been three years now, and the sounds of shelling refuse to die out. The outbreak was inevitable but the outcome was not what it turned out to be. The outside world has been trying to broker a deal between the state and the society. But in the desert, sand dunes keep shifting over time. Originally thought to last over 18 months, the war has proved costly, as every war does. The only difference is that a civil war creates more bodies to be buried than an actual war. People are living their lives-go to work, do their daily activities, eat, sleep but in silence.
His father had joined the rebels, like many others who were antagonized by the functioning (non-functioning) of the government. Oppression and blatant abuse of power had the citizens seething in pain and anger. Then there were vested interest groups who wanted the government to topple over. However, protestation is one thing and rebellion is entirely different. This, they realized as the war progressed. The government didn't spare anyone who was even remotely related to the rebellion. Innocents had become a shooting game for snipers. Children were found lying dead, sometimes in the wombs of their mothers. People had suddenly come to terms with the situation. So it was nothing less than a miracle for him to survive till five. And to mark the celebrations, his father was in hunt for the perfect gift, something that will define his future.
-"I'll need a colt .47 with twelve rounds"
-"That's a very primitive piece of machinery sir. Let me show you some long-range ones"
-"It's ok. I already have a plenty. This is for my son, his first artillery!" he exclaimed with gleam in his eyes.
-"How old is your son? He may like to try a bigger gun"
-"It's a birthday gift. He'll be turning five soon. I'd like to start him with something small"
The salesman stared for a moment and nodded his head, "I'm sorry sir, you're at the wrong place. We sell war here, not peace."
-"Well I'm asking for something that will lead to peace in future. How do you deny selling that"
-"War may end the tyranny but it never has bought peace. Down the alley, there's a small shop. They keep random, old, stuff that everyone has discarded. Maybe, you'll find something from the past worth gifting your child, for his future. At least it'll better than a bullet"
