O! What A Wrenched Enemy Who Dares But Fight The Children
Time stood still for several heartbeats. TV screens were flashing the same trend of casualties; it was not crossing 50. But why were the families of our APSAC still anxious? Why there were was those repetitive footage of morning being played in the afternoon? Why was the media quite? What was this mute misery about?
I too, was at school when the news of terrorists attacking APS school spread like fire. No, it wasn't just another attack.
16th December 2014 A terrible coldness was crawling beneath the skins. Its blackness seeped into the bones, lurking deep in the marrow, as it was sensed that this was a day like no other.
They left us, and they left their forever place in our hearts. Pakistan was crying. Everyone was engulfed with an overwhelming gloom. Most of us did not even know they existed until the day when they became our heroes. Our Pride. Salam Shahido, Salam.
All of a sudden the media declared the shuhdah being over 104. I literally wept at fate being so cruel. . One morning, they just went to school and never came back. Hanging those school bags, laughing all the way to their classes. Attending the session going in the auditorium. Waiting for the school bells to ring. Declare a break. Make them rest. Who knew they were going to rest for eternity?
The Pakistan Army as expected, our national saviours were there in no time to protect our children. They rescued a huge number of kids but unfortunately the dilemma had already exploded. Ever thought how hard it might have been for our Faujis to carry those blooded stained bodies? They were not ordinary bodies. They were our children. Who had ordinary dreams like everyone. Who knew they would do something so extraordinary without even trying?
Those ambulances? Those staff? The medical attendants? I am sure they have a strong hand. They don't shiver when healing the physical wounds. But did you notice their bodies convulsed by shuddering sobs? Sorrow etched on every face? Its not easy to dress those little angels who were leaving us without even commuting a crime? They wanted an identity. Who knew they'll be identified in every heart as our heroes?
Nothing stirred. And boom.. 139.
Who claimed responsibility? Ahh well.. I guess its so coward and crucial (words literally fail me here) of Fazlullah to say: 'It was not a school It was an army barrack'
What was he even talking about? Take a moment to look at these faces. Even the wildest and deadliest animal won't dare to scratch them.
But as they say; evil has to die. I have no words to explain the hatred I have towards these monsters beneath.
The picture speaks itself. 144 shuhdah are alive today. Its impossible to forget those tear stained faces of our mothers. Those sobs of our fathers. Those whines of our brothers and sisters. Yes we can't have them back. But they are at a better place than we are. They left us here to crave their presence. But, we never thought about them being at peace. They are happy up there. They know we didn't forget them They know we won't ever. They know we love them. They know we miss them. But I can't help myself but acknowledge the fact that how very blessed they are that they are in everyone's prayers. Take a moment to recite Surah Al-Fatiah for our angels.
Here I, on the behalf of my team give a big salute to our Pak-Army who came forth to built the beautiful school again. Salam Jawanon, Salam.
About author: Irza Aiman
I had only known the part of me on the surface, the bit I had carefully chosen for me to see. Underneath there is a whole vast area of my life that I had kept hidden. I am nothing but a by-product of nature unless you get to relish the tough cookie within me. The one who can trigger the emotions you have kept hidden, lurking within you, with merely playing with a few words. The world is twisted in undefined knots and me, an illegitimate person can only pen my emotions to survive.
I have power over you with my words. Words have their power over me. With a little color here and little color there I can paint a beautiful picture of words that the literature itself endorses it. After all, I am only an ergonomically free spirit with a wild heart.
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