SEA OF HUMANITY
I had a meeting in one agency when I suddenly felt something eerie while walking along a crowded mall towards my appointment. It was a 30 minute walk but I had this feeling of drowning already from the vast of impersonal beings surrounding me. I felt like choking. I could no longer determine which face connotes sincerity and seriousness from among the throng that moved and was rushing towards my direction. I was almost petrified. It seemed that everyone was a zombie, denizens who are undead and in perpetual motion. There seemed to be threats everywhere.
Those I would meet exhibited blank expressions, their eyes gazing in an unelaborated manner and their hands strongly hugging their respective bags or whatever contraption was attached on their bodies. There was no gender in the way they walk; there was only a field where rush is signified in every step. It was a sickening experience. It reminded me of a scene in literature where rats were en masses following the Pied Piper.
The crowd had nothing personal except to concentrate not their environment but on that which would benefit if not protect them. In an urban setting, everyone is prey to the predatory elements lurking everywhere. Danger is always spelled in capital letters and aberration its consequent company. For the individual, luck must always by his side, never mind prayers, never mind miracles, the success of the days comes at the end when nothing unfortunate would happen. Fate has nothing to do with hazards, it is the vulnerability of the person that invites a perilous situation.
Unlike before where strolling was a joyful preoccupation, nowadays it is almost a struggle to achieve sanity while on the road. There is always a downside in meandering. It is like immersing oneself in a criminal commune until one achieves a fatal end. It is almost suicidal but for the pedestrian, there is no other option left. One must face everything even the consequence of exposures to danger if only to reach his destination. And there are spikes along the way. And those who succeed in passing through can only boast that they have been victimized more often than not and lived for another day, wiser and craftier. Peace is always in silhouette form.
Oh well, I must be growing old because it is the sanctuary of a cave that seems very desirable already. I am no longer fidgeting to challenge the waves of threats in the sea of humanity. I am no longer a part of a generation that earns its spurs through luck.