I promised myself i would not write anything about what happened yesterday in the capital city Islamabad. I decided i would close my eyes and think its alright, this is going to happen again, i have been helpless and its going to be the same when it next happens. Its me staring at the television screen while bombs, dead bodies, fire, ambulances haunt me or it could be me next, among those lifeless souls...
While i drift into this and more i realize i feel nothing. detached, not even guilty. as i wrote comments and feedback on other blogs i realized how quick my fingers went typing, how disgust came to life and yet my eyes were dry, my heart didn't skip a beat, not even when i saw the 'live transmission' of the (horrible,horrendous,inhuman?) act. what does that mean i ask myself.
Yesterday as i watched the hotel blazing with fire on the TV screen exhaustion and tiredness took its rein..the images kept glaring out at me, reaching for me, grabbing me, clawing at me; i remained calm for secretly i knew that's not real.i am here, sitting in the comfy t.v lounge, sipping a cup of hot tea after iftari and that's life,,isn't it? Then i remembered how many times i have done this before, sit there, gape at the screen, or hear a distant bomb blast, or listen to others talk about the disaster and? period.
Its ironically an entertaining thought and somewhat of an accomplishment as well that we have become so good at doing this, writing our heart out on blogs and shed our catharsis and be done with it. its quite an achievement on my part that i, having gone through last night's episode of terrorism wake up next morning, rather heroically and talk and write about the incident
A few seconds spent on deciding what i am going to title this post as and voila there i am with 'this has no name'
Who and what has no name? the act of terrorism?, the people going out and blowing themselves? the people who died yesterday and were soon reduced to mere number of deaths or me, a guiltless, unharmed person who jumps on the blog world and is happy with it?
As my senses shout out to me from somewhere inside, i realize that this time i am angry (im glad to still have the ability to express this emotion) at the media, our 'free and flourishing' media. how many hours after the act were they still throwing out the gory images and talking non sense as if gods? how many reporters were there out on The Site and babbling out their reports non coherently? The last thing i saw and wanted to smash the screen was when the reporters went into the ruins of the hotel and said " Nazaareen ap dekh rahay hain kay kis buri tarah say computers bhi taba ho gaye"( as you can see even the computers have been completely destroyed in this blast) or "yeh dekhain idhar mukhtallif mumaliq ki timings waali clocks display theen" (look here, this was the wall where clocks of different countries were displaying their respective times)
After such a traumatic incident, i ask, did we really need to know such insignificant details of a place in ruins now? Do we really have to see the same clips umpteenth times every other second? Lets raise the banner of 'oh how free our media is' but sadly not mature and decent enough.