Candle-lit conscience

In the course of a day8217;s work at a news organisation, there has at least been something I have written about the protests 8212; after all, the issue was page one stuff. Snippets about the people involved in the anti-encroachment campaign he undertook, mood pieces in the trail of the bulldozer8230; sidelights to add to the news items.

But that was work. Copy my pen churned out because my job required me to do so. The event happened, it had to be written about. Very little feeling, very little will. Something that rarely stayed with me after turning in the piece. Yes, I did feel strongly about the issue. But it found a mere mechanical response. And the effect on me as an individual? Almost zilch.

Wondering if I had been so numbed as not to react from within to this chain of events, I stared at my computer monitor 8212; some more grammatically-correct sentences strung together. That was when a friend asked if I would like to participate in a candle march being taken out by citizens to show their backing for the commissioner. And I said yes. This was the opportunity my self had been waiting for. To feel, to react, to express not as a journalist, but more as a conscious and concerned citizen. To exhibit my affiliations for all to see. To ask myself, did I really want to do this? And doing it only because I answered yes.

With a sense of exhilaration mingled with pride, we set out. Individuals from different walks of life who had connected with each other the moment their inner voice had shouted that all-important yes8217;.

That connection which found tangible expression in the candles they held. In the smiles they gave each other in silent support. As they rushed to a stranger8217;s side to light the flame threatened by the wind. Ensuring that the chain one person had started somewhere found an added link with each new person with a candle.

By the time the march neared its break-off point, darkness had set in. And enveloped all individual participants and candles. Amalgamating them into a mini sea of light 8212; symbolising the conviction in their cause. Standing there in the middle of the street, singing aloud the national anthem8230; it was a moment carefully tucked away to treasure.

While some may say the idea did not elicit as much response as anticipated, while some joined in just for the heck of being seen there, while some walked out of sheer curiosity, I know I still feel good. And wonder why we cannot have such displays of citizen participation more often. All it takes is a sense of awareness and recognition of our own share of responsibilities. A sense that is almost always inherent to everyone, but often cloaked in wariness, a I-don8217;t-want-to-get-involved attitude.

But why not get involved? Why not come out and express openly what we invariably discuss within our circles? This is not about political leanings, it8217;s about civic consciousness. For that matter, how often do we even sing the national anthem at public gatherings? Or get up on the street, shout out? For what we believe is right.

Shouldn8217;t we do this? We, the people?