Rona ata hai mujhey. Jab main sunta hon kay aik baap ka chota beta bomb blast main mar gaya. Us nay apni sari umar guzar di apney betay ko parhaney kay liye. Bhoka reh kay. Ghar kay beghar. Logon say mang kay. Naukari kay saath mangna assan nahin. Kabhi koi aisa waqat na deekhay. Ghairat ki dhagiyan ur jati hain. Apnay aap to mar kar haath agay karney partey hain.
I still remember his tears. As he asked everyone he possibly knew to help him raise the money for his child's tuition at school. He had not eaten in 2 days. He had no house. But he had a bigger heart than I have ever come across. All he had was a piece of land on which he wanted to make a future house. He offered it to me after we had become friends having found out that I was having financial problems. I know many would roll their eyes saying he knew I was not going to accept the offer. But I remember his face and his eyes. More honest than mine. He would have backed his word no matter how hard it would have been, had I but asked for it. It takes a lot to reach that level of sincerity. I would die for a friend like that. And I would happily snatch those rolling eyeballs out of their sockets so that they are never able to look down on anyone again.
But wait a second. What was his fucking fault? Why am I talking about him in past tense like he is dead and over. Maybe he is in a way after the recent tragedy. But why is there this implicit assumption in my statements that this does not concern me and I need to move on. The past tense is the most visible sign of this atrocious human belief that makes us think that our life is the only one we are responsible for. Every man for himself right? But for how long. 70 - 80 - 100 years ? Then what ? would it be all worth it by the end ?
" On a long enough timeline the survival rate of everything becomes zero" - Tyler Durden
I for one have had it and dont want to move on. Even though its the 'healthier' thing to do. I dont want to move away from the dead body of this child. I cant do that anymore. There are too many carcases lying around in my head to allow me to do that. I could move on when for the first time i came across such a decision to disregard all that could not touch me. I did it repeatedly over the years after that - our nation having a natural knack for it. But now all those carcases have started to rot. Cause I or anyone else did not bother to bury them like they should have been. I cant shove this new body with the old. Just the smell might be enough to knock me out if I open the lid of the 'moving on' compartment in my head.
There is anger. There is resentment. There is a loss so deep that I cant even attribute it as a human emotion. But most of all there is this feeling of helplessness at not being able to do anything. Of not having been able to do anything my entire life. If history is a guide 'moving on' will produce similar results for the foreseeable future. I only have one thing to say abt such an existence. Even a Gando lives a better and more honest life cause he at least knows, feels and willingly accepts the cock going inside of him. Moving on is like being rapped while you are blindfolded and unconscious. The pain only appears a lot after when you cant even really be sure what happened.
And we as Pakistani's should know about that pain. Cause whats happening today did not start over night. I hope the assholes of our grand-father's and father's generation are bleeding and on fire right now. But that is too much to hope for. They are not Gandos. They probably dont even feel it anymore.
So the questions are:
what to do?
what to say?
what to feel?
and WHO THE FUCK TO SPEAK TO ??
Because the only response in my head right now is finding the guy who planned the attack and bashing his face in with a brick till his skull collapses like an egg shell and all trace of human features is removed. Some people just dont deserve the respect humans should get - scanty and meager as it is.