Change and Revolutions – Quick Late Thoughts

The talks that have been happening on social media websites regarding “change” and “revolution” have been something alright. I respect all the tweeps going after change. That is a step at least, but what shouldn’t be forgotten is that it’s not the only step.

Now what I’ve been admiring is the consistency with which some people have been working on to get hashtags to trend. That’s good. 

But, they’re just hashtags.

Yes, they’ll spark a thought for the need of change in the mind of the reader, but let’s not forget that the reader is someone who’s leisurely browsing his timeline, and the hashtag might cease to mean nothing to him once he passes over it. 

Let’s also bear in mind t the fact that instead of trending words where we call for change in a 140-character tweet, we could tweet something that actually changes. Petitions. Mentions to people in charge. Dates of the protests taking place. Reasons of why we should be interested in the cause. Actual substantiated and compelling reasons, not the shallow surface ones that we hear on adds or in political speeches aimed at getting submissive votes.

Another important point is accepting the disagreements that are going to come from people around and taking them to consideration. Consciously questioning your actions and words and accepting constructive criticism. Accepting one another, and that goes to everybody. It’s not a matter of who’s right, but a matter of what’s right, and unless we learn to take an objective view towards all options and thoughts available, change will never happen.

Lastly, yet most importantly, is the actual work that should be done, and that isn’t necessarily just “on the streets”. There are ways other than protests. Organizing meetings where you personally meet with everybody of interest in the topic.That’s already done on a larger scale by NGOs, and we can make them possible on a smaller scale too. Organizing school clubs or awareness campaigns in schools, taking time to talk with your classmates and open up their eyes on what they may not be aware of.Actual contact with humans, in person, and not over screens, because those leave a greater impact on the person.

Social media is good to start the talk and group together people of similar interests, but it’s just the start,a pencil. We should now take it and write. 



What I would never confess,was the intensity with which I loved those black crows.

On hazy autumn afternoons, I’d wander and look for their beaks in wheat fields and skies saturated with specks of sand carried by blonde rays. Their black feathers would camouflage perfectly during the night time, and so I had to rush after school to catch a glimpse of them before dusk. 

I had torn the scarecrow down, severed its cotton limbs and stuffed my bed mattress and pillow case with what remained of them. I had ripped off the clothes it wore and handed them down to Sarah and Jen who lived by the garbage bins at the corner of the next street. I congratulated myself on those disguised deeds done to quench my thirst with short-lived shots of dopamine and serotonin. 

I spent hours in our dim basement on dark Friday nights fashioning a chair out of logs of teak, crafting a picture of them on its back with perfect delicacy and their names on the front carefully.

And on a Saturday dawn, with sun rays kissing the seat a good-morning through holes in the walls, I had carved my last letter and dusted off of it the dirt.

I carried it on my back to the center of the field and cautiously set it down on a worn-out rug I had stolen from my neighbor’s yard during midnight the other week. He’d go on without it fine, but the chair, no it can’t touch the soil. 

Then by its four feet, I left bowls of fresh water that glistened as light played on their surface, and on the seat I placed a nest of auric straw.

Slowly, I stepped back. The wheat had grown tall. Its grains toyed with my hair and caressed my tanned skin. I suppressed a giggle. I had heard a “caw”, but it gradually faded.

It’s been hours. The wheat grains seemed to be swaying more slowly now as I waited.

I stood in that golden heaven, but was too busy waiting for their black majesty.

I had built them a throne, in my mind and in that field.