Can you close your eyes and hear the sea?

Can you close your eyes and hear the sea?

By Keerthana Satheesh,

TY BSc. Economics (2022-57)

Reading time~ 3 minutes

Image: ALEX ROEDIGER

No, I am serious. Can you close your eyes and hear the sea? I have this wicked ability. I can pause for a bit and hear the sea. The waves crashing into each other. The gurgles of water left by sea life and the soft, deep bustle under the depth of the sea. If I concentrate really hard, I can smell the sea too. The sand mixing with the salty water is one of a kind of smell, isn’t it? It’s not just the sea I can hear. I can hear the cackles of happy people all around the world. Some are playing a game with their friends, some are making stupid jokes, and some are just being themselves, whole and full, having fun unapologetically.

But if I concentrate harder, I hear more than just the sea and laughter. I hear the cries of the oppressed, the desperate gasps for breath from those trapped in conflict zones. The silence of lives snuffed out too soon, the muted sobs of families torn apart by senseless violence and war. These are not just fleeting sounds; they linger, echoing in the corners of my mind. I can hear the anguished wails of mothers who have lost their children to bombings, the frantic pleas of refugees seeking a safe haven, and the relentless noise of gunfire that disrupts the once serene landscapes. I can smell the acrid smoke of burning homes, the metallic scent of blood spilled in the streets, and the stench of decay in war-torn areas. It’s not just the sea and joy I can sense; it’s also the undercurrent of suffering that flows beneath the surface of our world.

Close your eyes again. Do you see it? The shimmering beauty of a sunset over the ocean, the golden hues reflecting off the tranquil waves, yet right beside it, the darkness of corruption festering in the corridors of power. I can see the greedy hands that take what isn’t theirs, the whispered deals that strip resources from the needy, the politicians who lie and deceive for their gain. The stench of dishonesty mingles with the fresh scent of the sea, a juxtaposition that is as unsettling as it is real. The backroom negotiations, the briefcases stuffed with illicit money, the signatures that seal the fate of the voiceless—all these corrupt practices seep into the air, tainting the purity of the world. It’s as if the very essence of the earth cries out against the injustices perpetrated upon it, a silent witness to the moral decay that spreads insidiously.

And then there’s the injustice, the bitter taste of inequality. I can see the scales tipped unfairly, the gavel of biased judgment, the courtroom dramas where the wealthy and powerful walk free while the innocent poor are condemned. People protesting in the streets for their rights, their voices hoarse from shouting, their spirits bruised but not broken. The clashes between ideals, the oppressive regimes that crush dissent underfoot, the tear gas that fills the air and the batons that fall mercilessly on bodies yearning for freedom. The endless struggle of the marginalized, fighting for a piece of the freedom that others take for granted.

It’s overwhelming, this duality of existence. The joy and the sorrow, the peace and the chaos, the truth and the lies. It’s all there, swirling together like the tides of the sea. The celebration of life and the mourning of loss, the harmony of communities and the discord of conflicts. And in moments of stillness, when I close my eyes and listen, I can hear it all.

This cacophony drives me mad. The constant bombardment of contrasting realities is more than I can bear. The laughter that once brought comfort now rings hollow, tainted by the cries of despair that follow it. The scent of the sea, once a source of calm, is now intertwined with the stench of suffering and corruption, a reminder that beauty is fleeting and marred by darkness.

I find myself teetering on the edge, unable to shut out the noise. Every joyous moment is shadowed by the knowledge of pain somewhere else. Every instance of peace is disrupted by the turmoil that I can feel creeping in. The line between reality and madness blurs as I struggle to reconcile the two worlds I inhabit. The burden of knowing becomes unbearable.

The pressure is relentless, an unyielding weight that threatens to crush my spirit. I can no longer escape into the simplicity of pure joy or unadulterated sorrow. They are forever entwined, a torturous dance that plays out in my mind. It’s maddening, this awareness, and it leaves me no choice but to join the fight.  The luxury of detachment is no longer mine to claim.

Beware, this madness will happen to you too. You can’t stay blind for long. The duality of existence, the interwoven joy and suffering, will find you. May the cries of the oppressed echo in your ears, the stench of corruption taints the air you breathe, and the bitter taste of injustice linger on your tongue. The world’s relentless reality will one day tear through your veil of ignorance, forcing you to see, to hear, to feel. And when it does, you will be left with no choice but to join the fight, for the luxury of detachment is an illusion that cannot withstand the weight of truth.