"In a bedroom ravaged by war, strewn with the hopelessness of scarcity, sits a man of 70. Outside, the bombs continue to explode, shredding every little piece of humanity to pieces."

I wrote this thought piece back in 2019 on the Syrian war, for my blog on Medium.

In a bedroom ravaged by war, strewn with the hopelessness of scarcity, sits a man of 70. Outside, the bombs continue to explode, shredding every little piece of humanity to pieces. The gloomy haunt hangs menacingly all over the city, but within, all is calm. Within, we witness a man who has accepted his fate. Accepting it in a way when everyone else was still looking for a reason to live; with grace. He holds a pipe in his hand as he immerses himself in the lifts and falls of the music; the heinous heights and the detestable depths of the war fail to bother him. The broken manual gramophone still works like magic; it requires no electricity. His torn mansion continues to be his haven as if time could make no difference. Here, he sits in solitude with the poise of a subject ready to be painted to eternity. 

Do you recognise him? No? He is one of the thousands of Syrians who returned to their homes in Aleppo after spending months at a refugee camp, after being evacuated by the military. So basically, just another face in the crowd, right? Only this 70-year-old became the subject of one of the most widely shared photographs of the month of March, eventually taking the internet by storm. It was clicked by war photographer Joseph Eid, only a few weeks after the return. 

Why would I want to change his life? I have never met him. I do not know who he is. Heck, but without the photograph, I wouldn't even have known of his existence. And yet, this 70-year-old taught us how to live in every moment. How many of us actually appreciate the idea of being alive? Here in Syria, that’s a priced commodity. But Abu Omar has no regrets. Having lost his family, his home and his impressive collection of cars, he has nothing else left to lose. The irony is that the serendipity that comes with the notion is just bewildering. For now, with his family a wounded memory, his home a bombed-out mansion and cars all tarnished with numerous bumps, he rejoices in being alive.

His story barely matters, muffled in the chorus of a thousand cries and yet during the hour of need, this man served as an inspiration to thousands of people across the world. If I could, I would restore to him his first love, his classic car collection. From a 1958 Chevrolet Apache truck to a 1949 Hudson Commodore, around two dozen of these precious gifts he inherited from his father. If I could, I would assure him that he’ll be safe from thence and in years to come, he will be able to watch Syria reach new heights, rejoicing in its newfound freedom. If I could, I would try to persuade him that the war actually leads to some good instead of tangling the country’s politics in a manner worse than before. With the war now coming to an end, I would try to convince him that he indeed has a reason to cheer about. 

But that is not to be. Do we actually have a reason to celebrate? What does the future hold for millions of people like Omar who have already gone through the trauma of having their lives uprooted by a bunch of fanatics driven by a corrupt ideology? I wish I could do everything I mentioned above. I know that I can’t. Well, at least not until we keep idealising war as a perfect solution, measuring a disaster in terms of the number of lives lost and children orphaned. Amid the political frenzy, bizarre decisions(the chemical gassing, for instance) and bombed-out hospitals, is it fair to choose which life is worth saving and which isn’t?

What do you think? Does the end of the Syrian war mark the end of Omar’s struggle? Today, I would like to ask a humble request to all the readers- say a prayer for these millions of torn souls before you go to bed. Hopefully, they will find a reason to dream again. 

If the article struck a chord, follow the link to know more about the humanitarian efforts being made by strangers around the world to bring a smile to another stranger’s face. And if your heart desires, donate. It's time we joined hands for greater peace. 

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