Romeo was a Montegue, the powerful ruling clan. Juliet was a Capulet, a member of a minority (and yet, a privileged minority in many ways).
Romeo adored Juliet. They had rarely spoken, but he was an ardent follower of her work since his teens. He was very much smitten, amazed at how every word she laid down on paper seemed to emanate a softness, a warmth, a humanity — a deep love and kindness that he saw reflected in her eyes whenever they rarely did meet.
And in those years of quiet romance from afar, the Capulets went through their fair share of trials. They were branded traitors to the nation, a force hell bent on bringing down the Montegues from within. Two-tongued and devious, driven by a long-term ideology and short-term niceties. A fifth-column that has waited patiently for centuries for its chance to strike.
Romeo saw parallels though. He saw the same humanity he saw within his Montegue friends within Juliet and the dozens of other Capulet friends he had. He felt that they were all being taken for a ride by those within the clans that wished for nothing but conflict, for conflict was profitable. The silent and peaceful (and yet very mistrusting) masses being led for a ride by those who hogged the limelight, the radicals, the firebrands, the ones who could easily call for the head of anyone sane who stood up to them and for common humanity.
This wasn’t how the future was supposed to look. We were supposed to be the post-war generation which had learned lessons which were never to be repeated. We grew up in our multi-cultural schools and with friends from all over. We had an internet to connect us, Snapchat filters to unite us, a soundtrack of our youth that we shared with kids from America. Where did it all go so horribly wrong?
Romeo was tired of reality, and very much wished that Juliet was the one penning the story instead, with that familiar softness, warmth, and humanity emanating from every word.