The Juxtaposition of Life

It’s wonderful how the high hills slowly merge into the sea— a lush greenery landscape suddenly turns into bluish waves, tens of thousands, millions and billions of waves breaking on the seashore trying to reach the apex of those standing hills but no luck!

Between them, there lies a plain concrete road— stretched over miles, separating them from mingling with the hill-bottoms. There exists a community of struggling folks; mariners you can call them— not the high-class wealthy bourgeoisie, but men and women of the working class. They are the marginal people— they live on the margins, no— it’s better to say they belong there, cause the almighty hasn’t allocated them the luxury tourists enjoy capitalising on them.

Sandwiched between the unforgiving hills and cruel sea, they know no luxury. Yet, life goes on— a daily struggle to feed the awaiting faces back in the home continues. And they have adapted this trait of life, in fact, they have mastered it— even from the early ages.

You see those two kids in the picture— I will tell you a story, their story.

They don’t have any schooling, nor do they are willing or say, aware of it. All they know is they need something at the end of the day to fill their belly, survive the day and if possible, take something to their home when the darkness of the night conquers the sea beach.

Sometimes they succeed, sometimes fail— but, most of the time, they don’t care. Not that they are selfish, but they simply don’t care. And it’s okay, cause, they are too little to take the burden of life on their shoulders— but, that doesn’t mean life won’t be hard on them. Even at this early age, they have learned nobody but themselves have to fetch their food; at least if they want 3x meal a day. They also know the tourists around are wealthy enough to throw a few bucks if they can hit at the right time. So, the quest begins— every day, all day; and ends when night falls.

Like other kids around, these two also have the urge to manage some money to treat themselves with Potato Chips— their own version of luxury! Still, they cannot resist themselves to play; a very distinguishable characteristic of childhood. But what are they playing, let me tell you a grim story.

I wish i could show you the video, some other time, may be :(

You see that stick at the hand of that boy— it’s a weapon, a deadly one. See that sand stacked in one place, it looks tiny but that too is a deadly weapon.

The stacked sand is a Land Mine and that stick is the kill switch. So, the land mine is set, and the boy is ready with the kill switch to blow away the other kid. Unaware of the mine there, when roams around and finally steps on it, the kill switch is triggered and the target is terminated.

Can you imagine how manipulated their childhood is— can you picture your kids or even yourself at their place? They are too young to embrace the rough sea but the nearby army station has taught them how easily a life can be compromised— just hit the kill switch and it’s gone. For them, life holds only one meaning— survival at any cost. Keep focused or get lost in turmoil. That’s how life is to them— fragile like a bottle made with sugar cubes. Even a gentle touch can bring it down to pieces. Can you picture it, however?