Of children.
Of technology.
Of adoption.
And of course, of death and sorrow.

What i would rather see as an an empty ad for a children’s drink with vague pictures on film heroes in the background, entertaining children, is not to be.

Yes, these indeed are heroes. Policemen : who lost their lives to terrorist bullet.

And ah, those kids. The taller kid is clicking a snap of the lifeless image of the shorter kid’s deceased father. Shot by a terrorist earlier. Now shot on camera, as he stares from a still wall. On a mobile phone. Perhaps to make that image as a permanent wall paper on the phone.

At that age, neither did i get to use a phone, nor did i get anywhere close to wielding a camera. But, my father sowed in me a overarching vision and a intimate voice. I wonder how the future will pan out for these savvy children with a voice stored in memory, photo stored on the phone and love stored in a vacuum.

Sigh.

We must move on. Each passing day strengthens that resolve. Images like these give a strange new purpose. That a worthwhile living, is one that is lived with a purpose. One that leaves behind a difference.

Today, a group of friends have had our first round of conversations on what perhaps can be done. Interesting ideas have emerged. Will keep sharing as we go on.

My regular posts will resume shortly. The mind and the mood bend the thought and the spirit. And i am staying there for a short while. With the bent thought and the strained spirit.