Last night, there was an assassination two houses down, on our street, a distinguished early sixteenth one, before I returned from exercise. Ishita heard the shots and saw the body and the wife leaning on it and heard the daughters wailing. The man was a corrupt politician, and it was ill-gotten money, but it was a life snuffed. I have seen the daughters on the balconies, and they seem like sweet kids. Yet, beyond our lack of affect and intimacy with the family, somethings stand out. On the one hand, this was not a random killing in a savage space (of Mexico or Nigeria or South Africa or South-side Chicago), but a vengeful assassination of developed dimensions, which has characterised the world at large, for long now. On the other hand, even as people begin to write expressing sympathy on FB, we are very well, thank you. Indeed, it is an entirely modern conceit that reduces everything to the personal and projects that we, including friends on Facebook, should be secure and satisfied all the time. That is not the way the world is, or has been, our shibboleths of progress notwithstanding. And so I grieve for the wife and children, who I know not.
Posted on: Fri, 24 Oct 2014 04:35:56 +0000
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