By: Farhan Tariq
This place was first mentioned in a confidential file of the World Health Organization as the center of silent screams. But the locals still called it Azadi Chowk.
A square where voices did not die, only their forms changed. Sometimes in the form of a woman, sometimes in the form of a man, sometimes in the form of a religious party, sometimes in the form of political and military organizations, sometimes in favor of the believer, sometimes against Modi.
On that day, when the world was celebrating World Health Day, a strange doctor entered this square. He had no high degree, no white coat, only an old diary and such peace in his eyes that he could hear the silence amidst the noise.
People were gathered as usual. Some were burning with unemployment fever, some were coughing from not getting justice, some were groaning from the pain of inflation, some were proving their patriotism, while some were standing depressed after receiving a medal for treason. But everyone’s voice was the same:
Ha ha ha ha
Ha ha ha ha
The doctor didn’t touch anyone. He just stood in the middle of the square and listened. After a while, he opened his diary and started writing:
“Disease: Collective unconsciousness
Symptoms: Screams turning into music
Cause: The poison of constant neglect”
An elderly man came close to him and said
“Doctor, is there any medicine?”
The doctor smiled, but sadness came into his eyes.
“There is medicine, but the patients are not the ones you are seeing.
Then who?”
The doctor slowly pointed to the victory sign on the edge of the square, which the government had installed as a symbol of its success.
The real patients are those who cannot hear even after hearing these sounds.
There was a moment of silence in the square. As if someone had spoken the truth for the first time.
And the cure? Someone asked.
The doctor closed his diary and said:
“The cure is simple… but also difficult.”
First prescription: Learn to listen
Second prescription: Stop responding, start acting
Third prescription: Turn power into service, not display
People started looking at each other. Some laughed, some shrugged. Because they were sure that this prescription would not be available at any medical store.
The next moment, the doctor was gone.
Just a page of his diary flew into the middle of the square, on which the last sentence was written:
When the screams become music for the governments, understand that the disease is not incurable… It is just that the system has become numb.”
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