Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Chapter 10

The day Pakistan bled again.

I woke up at 4 PM today. Oblivious of the world, warm in my bed and getting irritated that a stupid phone call woke me up. It was in less than an hour that I was out of the house, my lips painted red, having a casual conversation with a friend
"Oh, by the way, did you hear about Peshawar?"
"What about Peshawar?"
"TTP attacked a school and killed 130 plus children"
"Oh! Inna Lillah e Waina Alae i Rajiun"

The conversation drifted into something about dances and good food. I worried about how a friend of mine would be upset that I was arriving late to her dance practice.
"She's going to be furious!", I said to the rest, as we casually sat at the English Tea House and had our food. The bill was paid and we left. Hurrying to my friends house, I talked about how I would be shifting some place new soon and how difficult/weird it would be for me. The flow of the conversation was light and I worried how I wouldn't find the way to Azzah's home.

The moment I entered, we blasted the music and started dancing. From one song to another, we laughed, made fun of each and ate some good food. I worried that I might not look good dancing since I couldn't get the steps right. A brilliant suggestion was made to have oxygen shots. We all got into cars and headed out for some innocent fun. I worried what song would best be suited for the moment as I wanted it to be fulfilling. We headed towards Hotspot where a friends' sister casually asked;
"Guys, do you want to go to Liberty chowk for lighting candles"
"For what? I'm so tired, I need a break tomorrow"
"So insensitive!"
"No really, what does this signify?"
And the conversation hardly lasted another 2 minutes.

I came home, shortly after midnight and finally sat on my laptop. As soon as I logged in on Facebook, I saw black boxes in my ticker. Uh, black boxes? Strolling down my News feed, I saw how people had changed their profile pictures and updated statuses regarding the blast that killed so many children. I saw pictures of blood, shoes, children who died and got goosebumps all over. And then, I thought to myself, what's next?

Pakistan, I am sorry for being so insensitive. I do nothing but go on with life. A time will come when all these black boxes will again be replaced with our pictures, the liberty chowk will again only have one man with the sign that reads "Jinnah ka Pakistan", this day will go down in history, our politicians will take a break from their petty drama and then? Then, the show must go on. My worries are minimal, my tears refuse to show, my heart refuses to break and my sanity is still intact.

What are those families doing right now, I wonder? Are they still gathered around the bodies of their children? Are they cursing the ones who shot them? Are they asking Allah for forgiveness? Are they still sane?

Pakistan, I am sorry. Today you bled and my life? It just went on. My conversations? They remained casual.

I, as a human being, fail to understand anything at this point. I worry what will happen to this nation. And, I worry what the wrath of God has in-store for us next.

I shall still sleep peacefully tonight.
Pakistan, I'm sorry.