BLOODY SUNDAY

All of a sudden, there's a push; a shove. And then, a shout; a scream. Someone's down. "Get down!" yells a friend. I can only make out his tone of voice, his fear i can recognize through the clouds of smoke. I hear footsteps at first. My own fear grabs a hold of my nerves, it tightens it's grip. I hear, but I can't see.

 

I see my mother, faintly, pacing our kitchen floor, begging me to stay; not to join the protestors. "There will always be a fight to join, with or with out you, but who can fight to give me back my only son after he has died, alone in the streets." 

 

"You are overracting, mama. No one is gonna die, it's a peaceful rally, it's not gang warfare." Parents are so dramatic. I doubt she will ever understand.

 

"Why do you want to be a part of a fight you didn't start and will likely continue without you. Why not just watch from a distance like the rest of us." Small tear drops swell in her brown eyes, and i almost choke on mine.

 

"You will never understand, mama. You can't teach me to be a man. Without papa here, I must learn on my own."

 

"I got you this far and you want to repay me like this; by taking away from me my only joy?"

 

"I'm not going anywhere mama. Just let me go with my friends, they're expecting me." I grab me keys, my bag, lean in to kiss her plump checks, but she stands right up and storms away, slamming the door of her bedroom. I stand there for a moment, listening to the birds. "At least somone's happy around here."

 

Down the staircase and into the streets. There's no stopping me now. The old man who always sits in front of the paratha stand gives me a nod, as if to say, "Go out there for me, even for those who might not want to." With that quick and silent pep talk, I mount my bike, kick the ignition, passing the familiar streets on my childhood. Today will mark a day in the history books. Today is the day the youth are heard from Bangkok to Berlin. Today the revolution will be televised.

 

My friends are waiting for me at the usual spot, "Seulement de Pain." Time will not wait for me much longer. I race down the crowded streets, overrun by college students, businessmen, and tourists.