War

It is ironic how such a simply constructed word can give rise to much repercussions.

I hate war. Never saw the logic behind sending million dollar bombs (in the first place, why hasn't money been channelled to better ventures?) to destroy our own kind. Never thought that there was a need for violence nor was there a need for nuclear bombs.

News today. News offices seem to have a penchant for grimy images. Cover pages these days are plastered with grimsome graphics-- children hanging on tpo their lives, men protesting against the threats and attacks with their contrastingly peaceful placards. Retaliations seem to have become more imminent, as we see the Muslims in the Middle East (or the hardcore islamic-fighters at least), rallying together waiting to wage their jihad.

Violence reign. Threats from Osama and his lackeys fill the gaps in the otherwise peaceful international politics arena. In retaliation, Bush & Chechney Pte Ltd, taking turns to issue statements of war. Do you think this is just a show of prowress? I certainly believe so. Each one trying to outdo the other, with verbal, graphic and realistic provocation backed by their own sources of armoury. At the expense of the world. Can't Osama understand that the rest of the world still treasures their lives? Can't Bush see that he should not sacrifice the world simply to reinstate America onto its scarred pedestal? To not be so preoccupied with proving that the all great America will live on as a matter of prestige? Sadly, all these prevail. At the expense of all of us.

Sacrificial lambs. We read stories about how the US Marines are preparing to leave their families to go into the war zone. Images of the men kissing their loved ones, bidding them goodbye flitted through our minds. The refugees at the borders- scrambling to live. Illustratively, you could almost see them wanting to scrap and tear down fences that separate their war-torn country and their safety haven, just to keep themselves alive. To keep their families in a safe and protected area, out of the time-bomb zone. On the warground, men fighting for jihad give up the sacred duty that God had distributed-- they fight for Islam and leave their young to fend for themselves. Families become pieces of scattered memories as they await eagerly to become God's child.

What's political hypocrisy? World leaders declaring their stand either for or against the cause, each vocal in their own ways and means. Yet, they represent the elite who are free from war and terror, freed from ground zero and freed from the terror of seeing their compatriots dying, while their blood seeps through the soil. They mourn, they sob, but that's all they do.Oh, and they urge for their countrymen to fight, to defend freedom and to free terrorism from the minds and hearts of those who had already suffered. Yet, they will be the last to die while their people sacrifice their precious lives on the battleground. That's political hypocrisy.

Planeunomia: a fear of planes. The fear of hearing the roaring of the powerful engines in the sky. The fear of seeing the machines fly across the light blue sky.

Lest you laugh and snigger, there is really such a fear/disease/condition. And I had caught it.Each time I hear a plane, my body tenses up, I hold my breath, I mutter a quick and silent prayer. "Dear God, Its not going to happen here. It's not going to happen here. It's not going to happen here." Up till now, I have been lucky-- my prayers have been answered and each time, the planes roaring past were either RSAF planes or allied fighters. None of them carried bombs which they wait to drop on Singapore. I hope I'll always be lucky.

I have many fears. Terrified of the prospect of war. Afraid that a bomb will go off in heartland Singapore. Fearful that the attacks will trigger off our fellow Muslim countrymen to turn against us. Petrified of being under siege. Troubled at the thought of the economy collapsing. I never knew the taste of freedom was so sweet, till I lost it. Now, I only wait for my turn to breath in fresh air. Just a whiff will do. Really, just a whiff will do.

I want to live. I haven't lived my life to the fullest yet. For the past 19 years, I did most of what I wanted to do and I don't regret any past decisions which I made. But the future? Each night, I dream of the future-- how I want to live my life out with my loved ones, thank my parents for their efforts on me, die of a ripe old age... I need to live. I need to feel like I can live as it is.

Yet, I dare not dream. I force myself not to think of the future. The future is a realm of uncertainty at this precise point in time. Nobody knows when the war will end. Nobody knows when life will return to normal. Nobody knows anything. I have always pictured my future as a rosy one, filled with joy and laughter, friends and family. But now, I just live each day out, not daring to dream, for fear that I'll die with regrets that I couldn't live out my dreams.....