The ongoing violence in Kashmir is a story of the brutalization and dehumanization of society’s psyche brought about by the cycle of violence.
Perhaps, we should try and imagine the mindset of a child who was born in 1990 in Kashmir and is today 27 years old. All that he has seen in his life are curfews, cordon and search operations, stone pelting, enforced disappearances, and torture and fake/real encounter killings. For him, violence is the new normal. The face of the Indian state is someone clad in olive green or khaki carrying an AK-47, kicking the front door down. This is the dominant narrative in any militancy-prone, terror-infested, freedom-struggle area – give it the label of your choice.
If the average age of stone-pelters is between 7-17 years, irrespective of who is paying them (if they are being paid), the Indian state is sitting on a volcano that is belching lava but has not really exploded. When and if it does, a lot of people entrusted with the remit of handling Kashmir both in the Centre and the state, will not have the time to say goodbye.
What #stories , #memories , #images and #thoughts do we repeat to ourselves? Are we retelling stories that maintain our burden and pain? Identify these memories and examine their value. If they lead to feeling upset and create separation, be in complete honesty with ourselves regarding these feelings and follow them to their root. These memories are past wounds that arise for #acknowledgment , #healing and #release . The process of acknowledgment brings clarity to ongoing burdensome thoughts for the purpose of #shedding . We allow healing to take place when we can #honestly identify these feelings, give gratitude for their presence in protecting us and letting them fall away to make way for a more #pleasurable experience. This healing #power only lies within us. 💎#sheraspeakslight#satya#truth#healthyself#innerstrength#allow#trust
"You're not eating lunch with us today, are you?" I slammed my locker shut and twisted the lock as I awkwardly juggled two textbooks and my homework in my arms. I was doing my best to avoid looking at Lexa, but she wasn't making it easy. She had that look on her face she got whenever she was thoroughly annoyed about something, and I happened to be one of those things she was annoyed about.
It wasn't that I was avoiding her or that I didn't want to hang out with her or anything. I actually kind of missed her nonsensical babblings and sort of vapid air. It was just that I had a bit of a more pressing matter at hand.
Whenever my shirt sleeve rode up and I caught sight of the making on the inside of my wrist, I was sickly reminded of just how much little time I had left.
I was down to 23 days now.
And to say that I had made little progress where Bellamy was involved was putting it lightly. In fact, I hadn't actually moved anywhere at all with him.
He still continued to be as surly and unpleasant as always and the permanent scowl etched on his ridiculously handsome face never left, either. I wasn't so sure if he was always this angry or if his rather rude attitude was just because I happened to be following him around like some sort of lost puppy.
I didn't expect him to take me back to his grandma's coffee house. Like, ever. I doubted I would ever get to see Regina again - who I did happen to like very much - and I probably would
never get to meet his little sisters, Octavia, May and June.
In all honesty, I was beginning to feel like a bit of a stalker. But it wasn't like I'd been given exact instructions or anything. Death had merely said, "Do this in 27 days or else." So with that rather daunting task resting on my shoulders, I was a little more than stressed out at the moment. And now I was having best friend troubles, too? Luck was just so not on my side at the moment. "Look, Lex...." I sighed, shifting my bag up on my shoulder. "It's not you or anything. It's me, actually. There's a whole lot of crap going on right now." Literally.
Lexa did not look convinced at all