In Memory of All the Creatures that Lost their Lives Due to Diwali
As I sit in my room, listening to all the bam-phut-bam-boom of all the crackers and fireworks being burned outside on the occasion of Diwali, I find myself starting up at the loudest and the closest of them all—the highest decibel that makes my heart palpitate, and not in a good way either. While the rest of the Indian population is outside, celebrating the supposed “Festival of Lights,” cheering the return of a hero from his quest, I lay on my bed, wondering about all those animals out there, those living beings with more sensitive hearing than ours, those God’s creations with more delicate hearts than ours, subtler constitutions of being alive than ours. The loudest fireworks only scare me, but it must most certainly be killing them; forcibly taking the breath right out of their body.
The Festival of Lights? Huh… More like, the Festival of Slaughter. Slaughter of innocent creatures, fellow living organisms by flashing lights, by ostentatiously brash noises, by fire…
It must be killing them…
Sure, Rama, the supposed hero of Ayodhya, must’ve returned. But, I’m pretty sure, he didn’t enjoy the animals and birds and insects of his kingdom dying such garish, abysmal deaths just because the stupid humans of his stupid kingdom wanted to rejoice in his victorious and safe homecoming.
Sure Kꜳli must’ve killed some demon or the other, but she forgot to rescind the worst demons of all, us humans.
We’re all sinners. Grave sinners. Me more so than the others, because even though it hurts me to see the pain and death washing over the birds in the trees, the snakes in their burrows, the insects in their bushes and barks, the dogs and cats and cows in the streets, I am not doing anything except hiding out in my room, moping. I am a sinner. My sin is unforgivable; to sit by and do nothing as others of my race commit crimes of death to their compatriot, mortal beasts with whom they share this one planet capable of sustaining life.
I’ve silently watched butchery, watched murder, watched genocide, but I never raised my voice. I am ashamed, I should be punished with eternal suffering in the seventh circle of hell. Purgatory holds no place for me; for there no way my sins can be washed away. Now, with hypocritical selfishness, I pray to someone, not God, for he doesn’t exist—if he did exist, he would’ve seen through the first few humans, would’ve understood what grave mistake he’s committing by letting such monsters live, he would’ve sent by an apocalypse wiping off the whole universe—I pray hard and loud to keep the animals, birds, insects, and microorganisms safe and sound, their babies healthy and alive, let them survive through this once in the year.
I cried like a coward and I know I will die like one too.
I’m afraid of the day I die.
I have a voice but I refused to use it in the time of turmoil my fellow living beings must be undergoing. I am a coward; I am a sinner. What’s done, cannot be undone. What’s destroyed, cannot be protected. What’s killed, cannot be saved. This is how I console myself. An iniquitous weakling’s consolation.
We live as if we have the sole rights to earth. We will die with the sole blame to ourselves for bringing the scheduled, punitive, apoplectic plight upon ourselves. Cursed is our race, cursed is our existence. All hail the age of godawful malefactors! The inhumane human beings own the Earth, have merited privilege to kill Mother Nature, slowly, tortuously! Cheers! Hallelujah! Oppa! Badhai ho!!
Misery loves my company; death becomes my significant other.
Happy Diwali, everyone. Hope you’ve all burned to death in the embers and flames of your own crackers and diyas. Or asphyxiated your pathetic, degraded lungs in the noxious smoke of your mirthful firework-burning festivities. Or have contracted mephitic cranial tumors from the mixture of potassium nitrate, nitrous sulfates, sulfur oxides, carbon dioxide, carbon monoxide fumes that you’re so cluelessly and happily inhaling today; tumors that will gradually eat away at your health, deliberately draw out your mortality.
You’ll all be repentant when judgement day goes knocking on your sad little doors.
To the lives that were lost, I’m so, soooo very sorry. I ask not for the nonexistent Omnipotent, Omnipresent, Omniscient One’s forgiveness, but only yours. I hope you find it in your hearts to exonerate my camaraderie with ignorance, silence, and blindness towards this massacre.
PS: Refrain from debating in the comments, please.