I have read somewhere that things we read and see and hear have a way of coming together in our minds. And that imagination is a great architect. I can’t remember if we made it to the next town that day. I don’t remember when the sun set and if a river was involved. But I remember struggling with my mind as it refused to give way. I remember it as the day my imagination fell through. Rubble and smoke, singed thoughts turning to ash and the orphaned winds caused by rushed musings.
Think, Zeba. Imagine. His voice lost in the sound of traffic, but not his words. Imagine an apocalypse. The entire world has come to an end except this town. Everything beyond your line of vision has ceased to exist. The world as we know it has ended. It’s just you. And me. And 26000 other students who inhabit this place. Everything we were working towards is now unnecessary. Every truth we grew up with is a lie. All the work we have done till this moment is of no use to us. Can you imagine that?
I tried to keep up with his thoughts as much as his pace. But for a long time I found my mind wrapped around the fleeting horror of a world without my parents. But you must. There is no one left. Parents, family, history, art, all gone. Just this town, even this road we are walking on does not exist anymore. Everything is NOW. All past and all future is erased from everyone’s consciousness. And most importantly, there is no law. We can do what we want, when we want to and in a manner of our choosing. Imagine a world where there is no wrong. Or where there is no one to decide what’s wrong.
He was on a roll by then, dragging the weight of my imagination with much enthusiasm. The conversation followed several tangents but we both agreed that the social structure would be the first to collapse. We could take what we like and who we like. And there would be no repercussion for non-consent. We would cease to be the people we are. But how do we know who we really are anyway? Imagine a world without a buffer between thoughts and actions and the lack of any need to separate between the two. Is the fear of consequences greater than any altruistic thought? Isn’t it? Is this the kind of environment where trust exists?
Does this mean we are all naturally bad? Do we need rules and the fear of God to stay true to the idea of being good? Is there any hope in reforming? Is capital punishment the only solution? But then again, how do we know that the judge who sentences a criminal to death would not do the same if he didn’t fear the consequences created by our society? Does this mean all criminals are just braver people than we are? Will there be any good people left? Are there any good people? Define good. Is it time to stop looking for a ‘good’ person? And most importantly, am I good enough for this person I hope to meet?
I got distracted by an ice-cream cart. And then we stopped by a furniture shop and pretended we had just bought a house together. I got to pick a place for dinner and we brainstormed for a short film I was working on. And that night, I remembered to call my parents before falling asleep.