Front Lining

Fighting from the front line is considered to be bravest of all, they say. Fight and you will be rewarded. Honoured the most, if you make it out alive. But, medals in exchange for your life?


Will you hold your gun and march in the front line for some recognition and a raise in salary knowing that there'll be bullets like rain? A single hit can be fatal, blowing out your brain or making you limp for the rest of your life.

This war thing doesn't make sense to me. To me, neither of the party wins but the pride and ego— everything falls apart; family, relationship, life. Yet, we engage in war, and kill each other for survival; like in old times.

And in return?

A big round of applause when we come back home alive or the grand salute in silence while our bodies are inside the coffin wrapped in the flag.

A slap in the face of humanity.

While it's all over for the fallen, a new era of suffering starts for the people and families left behind. Yet, we engage in war.

Cause war means business.

Billion-dollar business. And we are just another pawn of this war game— undergoing all the suffering while they smell the green bills.

The Real Frontiers; Making Our Journey More Pleasant

Keeping the war aside— I am a big fan of the front lines of any journey; either it's a bus or car. Nothing beats the thrill it brings to me seeing the machine breaking through the air and crowd. Observing every move of the driver from the front seat keeps the pulse pushing through my nerve cells. How masterfully the driver navigates the steering wheel at 100kmph or so makes me feel more alive.

During my latest journey to the capital city, I was wondering what if I am at war and fighting from the front line. Would I survive the 5 hours-long fightings equivalent to the distance covered on the bus? Some sort of inappropriate comparison, still, imagining the vehicles coming from the other direction as enemies made me feel thrilled.

Now, in an actual scenario, the infantry units fighting in the front line would be backed and aided by a heavy artillery division to break through the enemy line. Heavy guns, tanks, and even there could be air support creating panic among the enemies.

Considering the bus journey, in this metaphorically plotted war scene, I am not equipped with anything like that. No safety gears, no secret codes, and our commander is rushing towards the enemies with a leg on the accelerator and another ready to be pushed on brake.

But the biggest weapon this imaginary unit has is the hydraulic horn mounted on the front like a .50-mounted armoured vehicle. And trust me, when the driver hits the horn, nobody wants to face it.

Quite an effective weapon he has.

What if the bus aka our war finally faces the enemy from a close distance— collides with others? Will I survive it?

The chances are futile as I don't have any gears to protect myself.

Medals? There will be any?

Not a chance.

Still, I love joining this war every time I hop on any bus or car. Sometimes you gotta live for the moment, the rest can wait.

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