By Sammy Naga | EMN
Protracted in inconsonance effortlessly endured and fatigued by, the lot of, during upon pursuance, it lingers faux pas if fictitious undeniably, our growth and transience has been in remission by its stretch and grip upon the fabric in every essence of society where all and sundry nourishes to life. And although the covetous may rain wrath of valor it possess to accede participation of designs all for glory for all and not merely a suppression as should some be perceived, none less in any realm it would be what still it is and shall be inked down for our brood and forth to come to, of what it is.
Assimilation shan’t be necessarily hindered if price be self obliteration of Nagas, but on other hand does remains it be; for proposer to assert that doom befall, if not absorbed. For what shall come good be if glory prevails necessarily after confrontation by incessantly spilling lives for the dream that is to be bestowed upon all. Shan’t we not protract any longer the due progression with tranquillity but by consolidating the meek emotions of the helpless lot, for which every proposer licitly pursue, humanely. For if not for the lot then for whom is it being?
The protracted circumstances reigning has projected itself as though there is no coherent alternative other than obliteration beyond repair, but crux of the matter is that it only remains a phantom, by our fear owing to mistrust and doubts. But have we to doubt our very brotherhood and the congregation of Naga dream, if we are to have a thorough perusal. For there’d be pitfalls in each one’s rendering; how hoodwinked we’d be if we subjugate to our own fear and mirage, then climb over the façade that masters uncertainty. Uncertainty of wrath when there always was certainty of possibilities. And deny however may we; but ultimately this incapacity to perambulate prudence will detriment only but us.
The languor has peaked to magnitude of our inconsistent attitude in lacking geniality throughout the course of voyage we have embarked since our aspiration for achieving laurels in society birthed. Lot has passed divest of chance to perceive its embodiment, few lingers hopeful and apprehensive of Time; that bothers not of one’s posture and ticks; as it is its nature to care not of one. Are we to be intrinsically so deluded that we victimize our self to the deceptive fallacy and wrath of time, that we forsake our indiscrete authenticity of us being solitary, that we heed off our ear from the utters of silenced mass. As for the feeble mass, it could only be pastured to where the steering is propelled.
(A personal view of a Concerned Naga)
