Mushtaque B Barq

Might is right

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Counsel me this time if I am wrong which in most of the cases oblige me to be a part of the boring witness box. Not as a criminal, but as a victim of variations. I often make out that I might land in trouble, but often my disagreement with the masses salt away my skin. But now it seems to me that my argument is baseless. I declare it baseless because so called thinkers of this epoch love to discourse on sensitive issues under prejudiced sunshade, pushing that thin line of responsibility at the far end of vast ignorance.

They debate on silver screens on the issues already doctored to suit their bosses who very often believe in distorted discourses to confuse general gender who either under the influence of the party or the person cheers at everything irrespective of logic and learning. My arguments are but opinions based on true human sentiment. One lives and enjoys living within the ambit of a true human web. A combination of core instincts and wishful lists. A value-based vandalism which extends support to humanism rather than pseudo-patriotism which so many thinkers of this era mark as nationalism. Counsel me, please.

Inclusiveness is all that I am being labeled for; my underprovided argument is often erased for the reason known to them and unknown to me. Between my awareness and ignorance, I am being very often if not always captioned as fundamentalist. Who is not? And then my basic rights are encountered with amendments. They change the law, they proclaim nationalism, I suffer through their modifications and a new term is coined to match their needs and mismatch my rights. With severity at resistance camps, I am posted at the squares as a hero and in the chamber of a sick man’s skull, I am but a criminal. An effigy of morbidity.  And my crime changes with every changing statement of men of letters. They toss my head; they bruise my limbs, they pull my joints, they fracture my confidence, they abduct my opinion, and they abort my viewpoint before full term satisfactory resolution. Who then? Yes, few lenses roll, few reels record and few pens do mention along with few verbal giants discuss my uprising as a challenge to changing statements of the statesmen. They declare, I suffer. I declare, they enjoy for one local cause: Might is right.

This injustice not only nourishes my resentful anguish but also wells up exclusiveness which I hate and shall hate for all practical purposes because inclusiveness in its true color only confirms love and brotherhood. Exclusiveness suits to a dictator and to nonconformist; it irritates him to the extent of confrontation which unfortunately ends up at the demolition of religious places where minorities are crushed under the military jackboots to prove ‘Might is right.’

Debates and discussions need an open sky; every opinion must be given a due care before pushing the thought behind its origin into the dark and endless tunnel of chaos and confusion. Debates must end up at the dawn, not at the dead end of the darkest tunnel where dusk appears like a devilish dimple luring amateurs, leaving them behind only to be ignored. Light is what all discussions must emanate, the radiance of any fruitful deliberation can only make others to understand my inclusiveness; it can make others encourage my otherwise fretted opinion.  Fixing standards in the garb of sub-standard pre-requisites’ as a benchmark of the discussion should at first place be settled to take home a handsome salary of nationalism sweetened by the honey of extensiveness.

Malice and hostility can never create a society but yes, punctured pockets, individually motivated and manufactured agendas to widen already fissured and fragile society can be dreamed of. Might must not be given undue privilege, minorities and sub-classes those who live below the poverty line, those who live in slums are also an integral part of the map that qualifies a country.

Elite and mediocre should not create the gulf owing to their own needs and necessities.  Growth should be given an identical likelihood to live both at the gates of an elite and at the door of the mediocre. The freshness of the dew and the fragrance of the flowers must touch every garden and when the need arises, thorns and bushes be tasted by both. This inclusiveness has always pushed me in the witness box to be mistreated by the exclusive might which if not checked and controlled fast, might lead to the division of humanity. The worst scenario on cards. Decisions and declarations must find every crevice to ensure free and fair governance. A government that can at least undertake to administrate the right to live a prestigious life, right to protect the minority and above all right to give right to writing unedited.

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