Words: Smriti
Pics: Anup Shakya
A day like every other day, cool
breeze chill surrounding

Never had I thought the same
place where had I been just an hour before will be only in my memory now. Laid relaxed listening to the music suddenly my
mind got blank; all I could see was the tearing walls of my room. The music
that was in my ear had no sense and all that was in my mind was death and the
prayer.
That few seconds will which was
longer than life time, that feeling which even the enemies would have never
required feeling, and that struggle for life which made a huge human causalities,
collapsed the heritages and made people homeless would be a tale for coming
days.
Who had we expected to spend
nights under a tent along with thousands of other people and seeing the
destruction in front of our eyes? Who
had we predicted to be homeless in less than a minute and loss of family
member?

Yes, I survived but the circumstance
of my nation brings tears on my eyes the pain in my heart. The places and things
which were treasured by our ancestors will be under pictures and stories. We broke down, we will have to crawl again but
our heads are held up high. We will stand up again, like a baby we will grow
again, we will rise and shine. We prayed, we will work, we will be back again…
0 comments:
Post a Comment