Of Saharkhan and my oddly crushing thoughts

Saharkhan was trying hard to wake people up, and there I was, already up, or may be, I didn’t quite sleep and was waiting for him to come by, start banging his drum. I sometimes thought to peep out of my window and tell him that I was up: just to make him happy.

But I never could bring myself up for that. May be, I never wanted him to be happy, or I never wanted anyone to be happy and that too at my sight—too much to ask. I was up, I was up. He was trying hard, so let him be. Why care?

Instead of peeping out of my window and say hello to him, those sounds that reverberated into the air usually brought a smile on my face. May be, he too was happy somewhere. We decided not show our happiness to each other.

Something is not letting me sleep these days. A lot has happened lately—enough to deprive one of sound good night sleep. Some things are happening around, while some happening within; dancing, achingly.

Outside: some were ready to sleep with those who had either killed their brethrens, or had tied them on their vehicles once—not like, those, who were ready to sleep with them, or had already done so several times, were not aware of the fact that they (those they were eager to sleep with) were the culprits—they knew that well, but were at the same time ready to give their fantasies a real shot and sleep with them: sleeplessly.

Picture Credits: Andrew Chui

The incident happened some weeks ago, all set to be forgotten, many might have already, but in my case, it is still there. It keeps on banging disturbingly, it keeps me awake. How could they? But then, why care?

Outside: people were being killed. Now they, as someone recently said, are fed up with the bullets and are now using their vehicles to kill whosoever might come in their way. 

The other day, I saw a picture of a young boy, under the wheels of a vehicle—such vehicles have got another type of license too—apart from the one that is mandatory for the driver to drive the vehicle—this licence is a ‘kill’ license, they all have it. Two at a time.

The long bearded guy was ‘jeeped over’ by a vehicle with two licenses. Helplessly, he was trying to get out the vehicle, but couldn’t. Those expressions on his face are still haunting me, depriving me of some good night sleep. He survived, while the other one didn’t. He too was jeeped over, mind you! Jeeped over by a vehicle with two licenses, mind you!

The Saharkhan must have been aware of both the incidents that I mentioned, but he still got up right on time. He still managed to wake people up—except me.

He tried every night and succeeded in waking some people up, but why have I failed to toss these disturbing incidents out of my mind just to get some sleep until the Saharkhan comes. Why don’t I sleep so that the Saharkhan succeeds in waking me up too, so that one more person is added to the list of those he wakes up successfully?

Instead, I stay quiet. I let him bang around his drum. I don’t peep out of the window. I smile and believe that he too has not been able to sleep. I remain up all night, but he prefers to come out on streets with his drum; waking people up.

Inside: Few abstract things. Let that story be told some other day.