Dear Dolly,
You might have already moved to that "city of waterfalls" with your friend. Or you might have already reached there. I know, your country already saw sunset today. And I expected you to reach the city before sunset. Wherever you are, you forget to convey your farewell before you went there this morning. I was really expecting some words from you when you are being far from your usualness. But I don’t mind, I know some fragile existences don’t get bothered to be remembered. I think, I was overshadowed by the excitement of joys of a doll, who is keeping herself far from the everyday stresses, at least for two days.
Today I am not writing you about the usual bla bla about our mysterious relationship. I was somewhat inspired by something today. That’s why today was little bit different than yesterday and other previous days. It is the only urge to share some feelings with you.
After daring to be irresponsible towards my busy schedule in office, I rolled toward a documentary festival in the city. For a storyteller like me, it was a grand party. Where I can see the style of expressions of visual media, where I can feel the pains of people, and where I can leap with joys of amazement.
The first documentary I watched was "Light of the Himalaya". Which was about an expedition of doctors, who go to a remote, mountainous village of Nepal to cure hundreds of eye patient there. I like the documentaries than feature films, because documentary speaks reality, I feel it like anything. Everything is so lively. After watching the documentary I felt really pity to myself that I live in the most gorgeous mountainous region in the world, but I have not ever touched a mountain.
Once upon a time, one of my best friends in university used to tell me that, the greatest and happiest people in the world are those who have traveled so many places, who live versatile life, and who have lots of vocabulary. After watching that documentary I again judged myself with those standards. But I was failed again and again. I was motivated again and again.
So many rhetorical questions and confessions unfurled into my mind. As a journalist I always did the clerk like duty. I worked to work. I worked to survive. I had studied in university that journalism is about "voice of voiceless". But the statement was tributed in the final examination and never remembered again. I always saw my media speaking the power center and speaking the money center.
The second and the final documentary I watched today was "Invisible Children: Rough Cut". It was about the children in conflict-prone Sudan. The film narrated the story of children who are being the victim of conflict, who are being abducted by the rebels and used as soldiers. Only the awful situations there didn’t inspire me but the background of the documentary makers. Three young guys of USA made the documentary risking there lives in Northern Sudan. Those guys were like me and like you, what they did, made the difference.
Dear Dolly, I have seen flowers come in stony places, and kind things done by men with ugly faces, and the gold cup won by the worst horse at the races. However we are masked with, we are human being. Finally we feel. Sometimes I am a freak, sometimes I am a geek, most of the times I keep myself under the atmosphere of hard rock and heavy metals, most of the time I don’t care about the rest of the worlds. But the other side of mine is beautiful more than my imagination. We can turn ourselves out to be extra.
After watching those documentaries, I was really inspired to do something, to give the voice to voiceless, to explain the unexplained, and to speak the unspoken. I have planned to go to a place "Jiri" next week with one of my friend. I have planned to go there on motorbike. We will go there with blank mind and see what we see. We try to sort out the differences in this beautiful place after the end of a decade long conflict. I will write what I see. It is my recent dream. It will be disturbing me until I make it come true.
Yours Teddy
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