Waves And Cracks

by Esmat

Earlier today, in the morning while I was having my breakfast, deep in thinking about Galeano’s Children of The Days, a strong wave of a blast shook up the house and my room alongside with it and cracked my room’s window in half. Nothing surprising really. Not the first time too.

It’s not the wave in the physical sense that scares me the most, or terrifies me the most. It’s those 1 or 2 seconds during the sound of the blast and it’s wave that is the longest and the most terrifying of all during a blast. A human body, unless constantly exposed to such kind of exhilarating trauma experience is barely ready to witness such waves. The gut suddenly gets together, the rest of the body turns cold, an certain amount of chemicals are released to cope with the new sense of fear. This is the crack that a human can take days and days to recover from.

About three years ago, early in the morning around 7 or 8am, while I was still sleeping, lying on my bed, a blast that was only around 1000 meters away gave it’s 1/2 seconds of wave and cracked my window into multitudes of glass, the window that I was sleeping under. The curtain was there to contain the glass pieces. I was in a state of shock, unable to comprehend anything, I heard loud thuds on my door and was asked to leave my room and get outside. That was the closest I have gotten to a blast/explosion’s wave and hopefully that will be the closet I will get in my lifetime. For a few days after the blast, I had nightmares and couldn’t properly sleep or focus my eyes onto pages of a book. I sometimes woke up early in the morning, extremely agitated and overflowing with the waves of the blast just as if a blast had happened. It took a week or two to get my head straight again. Again, the cracks on myself was too deep than the cracks on the window, that I replaced in few short hours.

For quite sometime, there is not a single day that passes without me thinking and fearing that a blast would go off somewhere in the city. It’s exhausting to be this vigilant and on the look out. This revives those cracks that took weeks and weeks to recover. After the first wave of the blast I experienced – every other one that followed was the continuation of that experience. It renews itself.

For months now, I have made myself skip so many things that happens outside, in the city, just to be able not to take any risks. I usually give some funny excuse to those who await me; in some way when I see them taking the risk, I think it’s cowardly for me not to take any risks, but there is some truth in that justifiable humility. Everyday, every time, that I go outside, I am on the constant alertness and vigilance of thinking that where possibly an explosion might happen. I don’t admit this easily but it’s the truth. It could happen, anyone can be near to that explosion.

And while the waves do the cracking on the windows, the people hardly get a chance to repair the cracks inside themselves.