We are the kids who were brought up patriotic. The kids who used to dream about doing something big for their homeland. The kids who stood in reverence for the national anthem every time they heard it, chanted patriotic songs passionately. Who eagerly looked forward to 14th August every year. But now we have long grown up. Now we are all gripped with an urgency to escape our once beloved homeland. A sentiment that was adored, held so solemnly to our hearts, is long bygone. Dissociation replaces it. Patriotism is dead. Perhaps for right reasons. Nonetheless, it's heartbreakingly tragic, for kids who grew up loving the country as they loved their parents.
We ask each other, What purpose does this country serve us? What benefit is it for us to stay in this land that must have been forsaken by God as well? The land where shackles of class, gender and religious discrimination are indestructible and exploitation and misery thrive at every corner. Where humans become inhumane. And tragedies remain boundless in magnitude and atrocity. A land which makes a mockery out of a religion.
No matter how hard I try to dissociate myself from the dismal reality, the spine-chilling events unfolding everyday shatter my heart. Kill a little piece of that patriotic kid inside me everyday. As a woman, I fear for my safety and sanctity. Then tell me, why should I stay if staying means suffocating?
But what of those who don't have the privilege to leave. The downtrodden who have the stacks aligned against them due to the circumstances of their birth. Because of the gender, class, ethnicity and religion they were born with. Do we abandon them like everyone else?
We once patriotic kids wish for things to be better. We wish to see a bright future here. We wish to stay and use our privilege to help those whose lives are afflicted by sheer misery. We wish to reignite our long lost enthusiasm. But we are not so strong. Atleast not yet.