What Pinched Him?

It is raining. I am warm and cosy in my bed. A cup of coffee and some books add to the pleasure. And I guess everyone using Facebook now is equally cosy and at ease.
But some people aren’t. Some people are being thrown out or beaten just because of their identity. And the fact that something happened in their area, in their they had no say whatsoever.

Even they aren’t the reason for my post this time. The reason is the constant revenge posts in my feed. My six years of NCR gave me a lot of friends who proudly call themselves Indian. I am glad to have them. But after the Pulwama attack everyone, almost everyone is posting solitary with the soldiers and how they want revenge. From Pakistan and from Kashmir.

The 45 soldiers who lost their lives might not have deserved this. But did anyone step back for a moment to consider why a 20 year old youth would want to blow himself up? He wasn’t raised in the so called Afghanistan and told killing people will bring him to Jannah. He was raised in a village in Kashmir where I am pretty sure he was told, and it was emphasised that suicide is one of the gravest sins. That once committed, the doors of jannah are shut for him. That this suicide results in eternal hell.
Then why? Why would a person having his life ahead of him take such a step?
Why wouldn’t he consider the fate of his family after he is gone? Didn’t he know how families of militants are treated? Didn’t he know that even if PM wouldn’t say anything, army would avenge itself? Would at the minimum burn his house down. Beat all the Male members up and harass them at every opportunity? In a fit of rage, his mother and sister could be raped?

Or was it because he had had so much of this pain and trauma that he couldn’t hold back?

After all, does it not need immense strength on part of a person to just blow himself up? How many of us can survive that thought without tearing up? How many of us can could the time, the seconds till our death? And then cause our own death too? How many?

Or was it that he was already so dead inside that no heaven or hell mattered to him anymore? That he had seen enough to blow up not just himself but 40 other people too?

If he was so traumatised didn’t he know the families of these people would be in pain too? What had happened that rendered him numb to everyone’s pain? Tears?

Did anyone think, or ask for his story before asking for revenge? Did anyone even care to seek out the wounds inflicted on him? The reason that he drove to his own death?

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Granted?

How many times have we heard of greatness? Of being something of value. Of being looked upto. But while we pray for such things, do we realise what would happen if all of that turned true? How would life be? Would it be some journey we are ready to embark on?

“Zindagi shamma ki surat ho khudaya meri”
It was pretty easy to pray for. Being a candle in a society. Being light. But did any of us realise what would it be like, burning like a candle to enlighten? What would it take to be that much to a society…

And what if some day we actually stumble across our destiny. If the prayer was accepted at some point of life, would we accept it? Would we be able to do justice to the work we have called upon us? To the responsibility we have asked for?

Do we mean every word we speak?

If not, then why yearn in the first place?

Sometimes…

Sometimes
All I see was blurred
the dreams, destination
Faux

It all seems too far
Unrealistic
A child’s jump, outstretched hands
attempt to grab the Moon.

Everything so far fetched
I, a mere spectator
watching
people shaping up my life

Water ebbed and flowed
down a seeking stream
So did my dreams
sometimes low, others high
flow in my blood stream!