Sunday, 10 August 2014

Gaza Raging in Bangalore

Yesterday: a day of Gaza Rage. rained in Bangalore. I dashed for the nearest cover. And then it hit me - it is also raining in Gaza - and it is not water - and there is nowhere to dash.

Some of us gathered at the Town Hall - about 50 or so - mostly dressed in black -many wore Keffiyeh 

A youth with pressed lips, knelt in front of us a drummed a death march - slow, pounding, resolute - like that in Gaza. We pressed our lips, held up our placards and also tried not to weep.

Palestinian poetry is like nothing I have ever read before - poetry of people being crushed - but surviving.

People spoke, shared, raged - and stood in solidarity with people in Gaza. We were shamed by a collective human shame for letting this happen. Three million in Gaza - and from a city of 10 million - only 50 cared?

Today I raged inside and shared this rage.

A friend asked " but how does one learn to feel...??"

How does one learn to open up plastic hearts and covered minds - dust off the cobwebs of apathy that cloak us in peaceful times? Of watching, knowing, and not caring? of awakening to the death dances in Gaza - of the very young, and also the frail and old, and everyone in between?

How does learn how to love? Can loving be taught? 

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