faithless

he`s sitting in his classroom. it had been a normal day. normal for majeedhiya anyway. obscenities, porn, pranks and teachers fuming. homework! he was bored. what was the point of learning how to make raivaru? education, was it not supposed to help us in the future? teaching us everyone language is a different thing. they should make a new optional cultural class and make the people who go to that learn all this. the teacher was going on and on about a great maldivian poet. he was looking at the teacher and he did recall him talking but as always his mind wandered.
it was 11th september and everyone was talking about the planes and the twin towers and the pentagon. what would it be like to be one of them he thought? one of the Al Qaida. growing up in a place where you have no freedom. in a place where every step you take, you take for your survival. growing up with words of wisdom to hate all but muslims. what about faith? that total determination towards your God. being able to press the button that you know will blow your body into tiny pieces. what drived them? faith or the anger towards being suppressed? both he thought. but what Al Qaidha did that day, was that Jihad? he was never good at religion. for some people it was like a second language but for him there were things he did not understand. maybe this was one of them he thought. he had always had the idea that Jihad was killing in the name of religion when you had reason to. when a group of people were invading you to take away your beliefs by force. but then again this world cannot be fought with swords now. the enemy does not come to your doorstep to attack. but still killing the people in those towers, was that Jihad? has the world come to such a point where the only way to relay a message is to kill a whole lot of people? is that the only way to make us care? people are disappointments he thought.
he grew up here. good old male`. he was young when luthufy and the gang came to invade us. to take charge. he did remember being afraid. he remembered seeing his mother cry. people around him cry. he also saw people getting ready to fight back. come out blazing for freedom. that was the first time he had heard a gun shot. it was a loud bang. the bullet carrying with it, a secret. you never know from where it will come from and where it will go. we felt that rush of insecurity and helplessness for a very short time. he imagined what palestinians go through every day. what it must be like to believe that while having a meal, it could be their last. a fate worse than a man on death row, atleast he knows when he is going to be killed. and he could have his favorite meal as his last.
he was nudged back to his classroom by his classmate. he rolled his eyes as he always did when he was brought back to reality. he always chose when to leave it and when to come back. maybe that was not the most constructive of ways but it was his choice. his freedom. he smiled when he thought about all the things he cared about. the list was very short. made him wonder if that would ever change? the bell rang it was the last class of the day, nothing to hold him back in this jail he thought. pushing everything into his bag he gets up and leaves...