“Welcome to the The ‘Walk Of Emotions’, Karan,” Shieran chirped, standing before a big, wooden door. When he’d met her at the Highway Barricade, the place where all permits had to be registered to enter this ‘nation-away-from-nation’; she didn’t strike him as an able guide with her peppy attitude. But after the morning tour spent viewing the rich cultural heritage of this land, he was impressed with her profound and unbiased insight.
Entering the dilapidated house, Karan felt his breath catch as he stared at the graffitis decorating the walls and the staircase railing. “Some of the old ones have been overlapped in the last three years.” Shieran then proceeded to explain the history of the house. For over two decades, the Tribe had waged a civil war against the Nation over this neglected piece of territory. Unable to crush the spirit of this small but strong community despite many violent clashes, there had been a call for armistice after the matter was registered with the International Forum.
After gathering sufficient pictures to satisfy his grumpy editor, Karan wandered up the stairs. Alone in a three-storied building painted with the hopes and dreams of countless men, women and children on the once plain walls; he was a witness to their indomitable spirit even in the face of massive systemic oppression.
Men would fade away, their voices silenced, their stories retold and facts whitewashed.
But these stones, they would narrate a tale of colours whose flame would burning bright even at the darkest hour of the night.
This is for Nekneeraj at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie’s Photo Challenge #326.
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