The world has been seeming much drearier than usual recently. The first time I remember things getting worse was in December 2019, when the CAA protests took place (which were widespread and quite violent in my area). That was the first time I had seen, first-hand, people out on the streets, protesting for blood. That was the first time I had seen real fear in my parents' eyes. That was also the first time I ever saw someone being shot at. They were rubber bullets — designed to hurt rather than kill, but the deafening shots were very real.
The resultant curfew was already scary enough as the only ones you could see out in the usually busy main roads would be people in uniforms. Then, before I could even recover from this sudden sight of completely empty streets, came the pandemic and the accompanying lockdown. The cycle began once again. The only ones you could see out on the streets were those in uniforms.
Two years later, I'm still waking up to constant updates about the pandemic and recently, the Russia-Ukraine war and the ever-present possibility of World War III. In all of this dreariness, it becomes difficult to find a reason to keep going, to keep slaving over assignments and exams, as if I can't see the world crumbling around me. However, in spite of the melancholy of impending doom, I'm glad to have found my bliss. It arises from the small things – someone recommending amazing music, dancing under the blazing heat of the Delhi sun just because the sky looks pretty, being able to hug my loved ones, and virtually roasting those who are too far to hug. Golden sunlight on dewy greens, the multitude of colours hanging from brown branches, an eagle's call as it flies low over my head, and the honeyed yellow of a potentially dangerous honeybee – there's something about all of these that makes me feel alive. These make me realise that I exist, and that I am still alive.
The future is uncertain; the past is gone. All I have now is the present. My past might have crumbled and my future might not exist, but at least my present is here before me now. I am glad that I am alive. I am glad that I exist.
Risti Ghosh
Third Year
B.A. (Hons.) History
Photograph curated by Ragini Kumari
Edited by Tushita Choudhary and Anshika Srivastava
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