The Phnom Penh Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum aka S21

 Them who? People who've vanished not with time but in that time, it is now open from 08:00 am to 05:00 pm, seven days for one and all to come and see how we humans have evolved, how we were, how much war had to do with our species, how each and every second counted and how each and every live lost were unaccounted. Begging to Satan for a quick death by day-time and praying to God for the loved ones on the other side of the window bars by the night-time, their lives were classified Hopeless.

My dad ran me through, the night before I visited S21 for this article, his younger days and the whole saga of violence, hunger, pain, lose, hopelessness, long days and longer nights. I wondered if I would be able to put that time into my words and test my guts and see if I am my dad’s son.

It surely did change, if not the whole world but this corner for sure. While in there, during the visit, neither could I put up any expression to showcase that bit of curiosity I had about S21 nor did I saw any on the other visitors. I described it as 'indescribable'. I honestly had super confused feelings, first, of being there at a place where humanity had failed way above the "Guinness World Record Standard" and second, that it had ended somehow and third, that something like that ended, yet we have had many more afterwards. 

I am a seventh grader and using all the understandings I have got, Pol Pot was the Asian version of Hitler.

One of the notice boards at the entrance had words like peace, respect, manner, unjust, appropriate, soul and I couldn't get the logic. Why now? Why not then?

Why on earth did they do that? I just don't get it, death of millions of people caused by some immoral dudes with third grade rifles, the stupidest of the commands and many souls paid the price.

Gramps, let the folks give you a grand hand of applause (my version of “a round of applause”)  on pulling off the impossible heavy duty 'save the life' challenge given by the almighty commander 'God', the mission to save lives of his eight grand kids. HE DID IT, HE DID IT! Hoorah!

Going through the Rouge, war , hunger, anything could have happened, but no matter  what, he swore to all his kids that he'll make it through, and he did, bravely and boldly. Let's not talk about how hard it was for him, what we should be appreciating right now is what we have now, something that could've been lost, but wasn’t, it's still here, ONE BIG FAMILY aka my family.

Ticket counter, hey again, free for me, 3 bucks for expats.

My first expression, 'Woh, this place looks scary', the rusted metal beds that cuffed the bodies whose photos are mounted on the walls of the same room, school-like prison,  full of thoughts and emotions hitting each one of the visitors in many different ways……. every single life, both the visitors and the being-visited felt the place.

Any bit of smile on any of the photos so far? I guess not, if yes, then it must be on very few  in hundreds.

All photos taken, containing nothing but fear and pain, could possibly break anyone's heart, all you have to do is just stare at any one of them for a moment and it will take you for a ride. When you blink your eyes afterwards, I bet you would feel tears on your toes. One of the ladies I came across staring at them photos, took 3 minutes to get out of the room with wet eyes and I told myself that she must've gotten the imagination right.

Uniforms with number tags on it, both hands and legs cuffed tightly, the rooms gave me chills and sent out a signal saying 'you got nowhere to go', pain attached. Unexplained reasons of torture with hell-made interrogation methods, death was the word that they screamed for.

Interrogation over a wooden “goal-post” like frame with three huge earthen pots filled with sewage underneath, what Cambodian calls it as a Peang, three hooks for each of the three pots, 10 feet tall off the ground to hold the captives with their hands twisted and tied at the back with ropes only to dip them into the sewage filled pots and bring them up for any unwanted resistance; Satan kind of stuffs.

Of course, the guys with rifles had no choice but to listen to the order, they are still humans in the end, I bet they felt really bad every time they kill or torture. Their heads would've been chopped off if they refused, no one loved that job.

The survivors, they got through this, every other humanly troubles that we cry for, these days, would seem like nothing to them; only pain and dark memories would stay in their heads for eternity. I wish if I could hit the Delete button and erase all of their darkest memories off their heads.

Mr. Chum Mey, one of seven survivors thought to be still alive, I wept the night before I even met him, he said "First they shot my wife, who was marching in front with the other women," he said. "She screamed to me, 'Please run, they are killing me now'. I heard my son crying and then they fired again, killing him. When I sleep, I still see their faces, and every day I still think of them". A big honour to have had a chance to meet him, read his book and got an autograph. We as visitors, me as a kid, from the point of view that they should be treated nicely than this, they want nothing from us, but we must provide the earnest prize. Despite the fact that they have been through tons of hardcore obstacles, government might want to consider them as national treasures, why not give it a shot and create some best moments in their lives. Imagine if scientist preserved their brains for research, had a machine that could transfer all the memories into a short movie, how much pain they went through, and how inhuman we were.

The indoor and the outdoor, we can see it as hell and heaven in so many ways. From painful memories, heartbreaking photos, histories of how evil we were, caged like birds at Wat Phnom, life was hopeless and meaningless. Turn back, three steps forward, open your eyes wide, now that's a whole new world out there, college-campus-like environment, students and tourists come and go, they sit on the grass, some lying down reading a book, some wearing geek glasses, looking like professional writers, a blind lady singing with her sweet tone of voice, the interpreter interpreting her stories to the crowd, everything was just different, Amazing.

No one would mostly consider visiting Toul Sleng on their so much awaited holidays. I and we won’t get it what is in there unless we choose to experience it, we could definitely imagine but the hair on our arms won’t stand up and eyes won’t get wet just like that.

Past will stay past tense, we're the new generation lads, the world was created for us humans to make it better in any ways possible. Not just for the sake of our future, but for the older generation that have gone through the old world, where there were no peace, but war. They will definitely be happy and proud, because it is us, their own blood and sweat who are making the difference.

Bless us the power.