Continued from Terror Demystified:
The humour favoured the educated, protecting their actions/decisions with laughter and guns favoured the makers alone. Terrorism was catching as much as the fashionable trends at the Malls. Everyone was pitching their own brand.
Looking back it feels as if everything happened for a reason. It didn’t make sense and no one offered any explanation and now I realize, just as well. I spoke to a lot of people, and whenever I was near giving up, I’d meet someone who would listen and understand what I was saying, offer a twig of hope, the slightest reason to go on. An agreement to something I said that made sense to both, that urged me on. At times, it was a line in a book here, a paragraph there, a video on youtube.
I tried to talk to war veterans, people in crime, poverty, and other important variables that relate to terrorism. People barely spoke about such topics, at least to strangers. Two academics, I had pinned my hopes on, shattered it all, within the same month. Ph.D’s lost relevance for me then. One* is thriving on stolen work, the other saw minority favouritism through his PhD diagnostic fluff.
At the same time, I got tips about every significant variable, from a stranger to a stranger, fitting another piece of this puzzle. I was finally meeting the right people, but at random.
My less intense exposure to atrocities in violence had saved me but kept me involved. I hadn’t been affected directly, but all those voices of people who wanted to be heard, those who had directly suffered, those who had seen ridiculous violence on both sides, their hopes and confusions, had become mine.
How can a sufferer realize his plight, when he or she is in the thick of it? How is someone to objectively realize their condition, when they do not have the education or the resources? Financial and moral strength in dis-repair, how do they lift themselves out of it?
I lived my crises for a long time did not know how to help me until a few quiet weeks made me aware about the gravity of their situation and I developed the will to do something about it. Having done it before, I must do it again, with or without another degree in another country. I guess I’d served my time living through minor suffering and lifting myself out of it to fully understand and appreciate another’s crises, though it was absolutely no comparison.
To face social opposition and (non-killing) attacks by the educated and affluent was very uplifting, if that makes sense. It was plain insight about the condition we human beings put each other through, involuntarily or even, voluntarily.
I had found a mushrooming pattern, revealed in, “Terror Strikes The HocleS,” an e-book fundraiser available at https://www.amazon.com/Terror-Strikes-HoCleS-V-Sabharwal-ebook/dp/B0772CVGKB
To be continued.
- I now see it simply as a clue to my puzzle, nothing more. When I mentioned to the former, that I was working on a novel, he wasn’t happy about it.