One of the things that sets us apart most strikingly from other species is our ability to express ourselves in powerful and inventive ways. Our ability to express a whole range of emotions, with all their subtle differences and the inscrutable ways in which they co-occur. Our ability to express new and powerful ideas. Our ability to express ourselves through the written and the spoken word, through art and theater. And our ability to express ourselves through mass action. This is written as a celebration of freedom and expression, and is dedicated to Ziyaa.
Its a peculiar feeling. You can feel it in your stomach. Think of how a young bird might feel just before it drops off a ledge in its first attempt at flight. Or think of what you felt like when you walked up to a girl for the first time to express your "undying love". Or think of what you might have felt sitting in front of a b&w television in the '60s, looking at man taking off for the first manned mission to the moon. Its something like that.
"Remember, if you can overcome your fear, you can achieve anything!", shouted his father from behind, over the din of the propeller.
Omar Bashir, 16 at the time, sat in the cockpit of the Cessna 152 adjusting the controls, his father seated behind him. This would be Omar's first flight. What Omar felt at that time was a mixture of fear and excitement. More fear as he breathed in and more excitement as he breathed out. As they flew over the seaport town of Suez that day, Omar's father smiled proudly.
That was the year 2001. Mr. Bashir was an official at Suez's Port Authority. He was a man of middle class values and few ambitions. But he did have a few passions, among them flying. And he had ambitions for his son, Omar.
As a child, Omar would accompany his family to Suez's flying club on Sundays. The club had a small airstrip and a few aircraft. He would sit with his mother and sister in the open area by the hangar, where seats would be laid out for members. As they watched his father take off, Omar longed for the day when he could fly too.
On Omar's twelfth birthday, Mr. Bashir took him on his first flight. Omar climbed into the back seat of a Piper Tomahawk that day with the excitement of a kid who had just been offered a chocolate triple sundae. As they flew above Suez that day, Omar initially felt fear. Later on however, he grew to feel more at home in the sky and then longed for the day when he would fly an aircraft himself. That happened on his sixteenth birthday. In the two years that followed, Omar and his father would take long walks together in the evening at the airstrip. Omar would listen as Mr. Bashir shared his plans for him.
At nineteen, Omar left to study commerce at Cairo University. He graduated top of his class and joined a trading firm in Cairo. Mr. Bashir, expectedly, was a proud father. He still preferred communicating in the old fashioned way- letters. And he wrote quite a few of them to his son. Many of these letters were further advice for his future, and many expressed Mr. Bashir's happiness at his son's success. Life was middle class good. Omar and Mr. Bashir still went out to the flying club for a flight together every time Omar visited.
On January 25, 2011, Omar remembered what his father had told him just before he flew an aircraft for the first time- 'Remember, if you can overcome your fear, you can achieve anything!'. As he stood among the rank of protesters in Tahrir Square that day, he could feel a peculiar feeling in his stomach. It was a mixture of fear and excitement. More fear as an approaching water cannon squared up to them. And more excitement as they kept steady in its wake. More excitement as they felt they were living extraordinary times.
On the night of February 11, Mr. Bashir sat in the living room of his house in Suez, flanked by his wife and daughter. Footage from the protests in Tahrir Square played on their television set. The footage was sent to them by a journalist who had captured it in Cairo a few days after January 25- Egypt's 'Day of Rage'. Tears flowed down Mr. Bashir's cheeks as he saw his son being gunned down, while standing up to riot police.
On the evening of that day, Hosni Mubarak had stepped down from the office of Egypt's President and Mr. Bashir wondered if a father could ever be prouder of a son.
Whether the protests in Tahrir Square lead Egypt down the road to democracy or not remains to be seen. These are extraordinary times however, and this has already been 'a Magical Year'.
Inspired by Anuj Kaura's link on facebook:
Its a peculiar feeling. You can feel it in your stomach. Think of how a young bird might feel just before it drops off a ledge in its first attempt at flight. Or think of what you felt like when you walked up to a girl for the first time to express your "undying love". Or think of what you might have felt sitting in front of a b&w television in the '60s, looking at man taking off for the first manned mission to the moon. Its something like that.
"Remember, if you can overcome your fear, you can achieve anything!", shouted his father from behind, over the din of the propeller.
Omar Bashir, 16 at the time, sat in the cockpit of the Cessna 152 adjusting the controls, his father seated behind him. This would be Omar's first flight. What Omar felt at that time was a mixture of fear and excitement. More fear as he breathed in and more excitement as he breathed out. As they flew over the seaport town of Suez that day, Omar's father smiled proudly.
That was the year 2001. Mr. Bashir was an official at Suez's Port Authority. He was a man of middle class values and few ambitions. But he did have a few passions, among them flying. And he had ambitions for his son, Omar.
As a child, Omar would accompany his family to Suez's flying club on Sundays. The club had a small airstrip and a few aircraft. He would sit with his mother and sister in the open area by the hangar, where seats would be laid out for members. As they watched his father take off, Omar longed for the day when he could fly too.
On Omar's twelfth birthday, Mr. Bashir took him on his first flight. Omar climbed into the back seat of a Piper Tomahawk that day with the excitement of a kid who had just been offered a chocolate triple sundae. As they flew above Suez that day, Omar initially felt fear. Later on however, he grew to feel more at home in the sky and then longed for the day when he would fly an aircraft himself. That happened on his sixteenth birthday. In the two years that followed, Omar and his father would take long walks together in the evening at the airstrip. Omar would listen as Mr. Bashir shared his plans for him.
At nineteen, Omar left to study commerce at Cairo University. He graduated top of his class and joined a trading firm in Cairo. Mr. Bashir, expectedly, was a proud father. He still preferred communicating in the old fashioned way- letters. And he wrote quite a few of them to his son. Many of these letters were further advice for his future, and many expressed Mr. Bashir's happiness at his son's success. Life was middle class good. Omar and Mr. Bashir still went out to the flying club for a flight together every time Omar visited.
On January 25, 2011, Omar remembered what his father had told him just before he flew an aircraft for the first time- 'Remember, if you can overcome your fear, you can achieve anything!'. As he stood among the rank of protesters in Tahrir Square that day, he could feel a peculiar feeling in his stomach. It was a mixture of fear and excitement. More fear as an approaching water cannon squared up to them. And more excitement as they kept steady in its wake. More excitement as they felt they were living extraordinary times.
On the night of February 11, Mr. Bashir sat in the living room of his house in Suez, flanked by his wife and daughter. Footage from the protests in Tahrir Square played on their television set. The footage was sent to them by a journalist who had captured it in Cairo a few days after January 25- Egypt's 'Day of Rage'. Tears flowed down Mr. Bashir's cheeks as he saw his son being gunned down, while standing up to riot police.
On the evening of that day, Hosni Mubarak had stepped down from the office of Egypt's President and Mr. Bashir wondered if a father could ever be prouder of a son.
Whether the protests in Tahrir Square lead Egypt down the road to democracy or not remains to be seen. These are extraordinary times however, and this has already been 'a Magical Year'.
Inspired by Anuj Kaura's link on facebook:
3 comments:
:-)
Thought provoking. Different modes of expression and its power accentuated with the crowd/mass psychology is noteworthy. History has shown it time and again. Nice article, Good job. Thanks for posting.
'Sanghe Shakti Kaliyuge'
The Power lies in the Group.
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