History came full circle on August 15, 2021 when the Taliban recaptured Kabul after 20 years.
15 August 2021
12:30 p.m.
Each moment, each instance, I stopped myself. I stopped myself because I was helpless.
I was alone. And more than that, I was terrified, terrified to be alive.
My mother used to say that there are dark nights but come what may, even the darkest nights are followed by the shine of the new sun. Nevertheless, my belief remains instilled that these dark nights bring gloomy days hovering with misery long-stretched. But to tell Ma the new-age truth, I would have to take a blessed trip to heaven.
So now the time has come that I shall speak, like the others; speak and then get lost within a small corner of a tarnished book of history titled ‘The Chronicles of the Never Ending War’, with the belief still strong that one day, someone will understand the affliction and doldrums of my time.
The war that unfolded with cries of grief and unwithered agony. Amidst the loss of freedom, life, and livelihood, I’m lost in the solitude of my existence, captured within the battered walls of my once lovely house, dreading to face my deathly slaughter with each day I’m still alive.
“Is death the end?” I ask myself repeatedly, as no one wants that. Is there something that will help not me but my younger brothers, to live, and to see the bright side of the world rather than this dark torment?
And with a sigh, I express my hope for the day to come when we can look around and hear laughter and smiles rather than the dreadful broadcast of war, when we can see happy faces and not bloodshed and cries. And so, I hope and hope like many others to at least catch one glimpse of freedom, warmth, and joy, even at the brink of my death.
-Sadhvi Pandey
2nd Year
B.A. (Hons.) Economics
[Edited by Harshita Khaund and Mehak Aggarwal
Art Curated by Uma Sathhwika and Mehak Aggarwal]
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