The Cold Blooded Morning…

Time is the most effective cure. Time and again, this phrase is repeated and till date; seldom does any individual differ on this note. Will Time ever cure the fever of bereavement in which the nation has been caught as an aftermath of what no sane imagination can swallow? Will December16,2014 ever be forgotten?


It was a cold morning in Lahore when this Naive Commentator woke up to the morning call. The day was pretty quiet, though cold, for the few hours preceding its break. December16, the date on the calendar had set the thinking chip’s timeframe for forty three years before. Giving a few thoughts to the worst and the most tragic chapter of the country’s tattered history, she was only making some vague attempts to scrutinize the dynamics and trying to affirm her stance on her country’s division. This was a sane start to the most terribly lunatic dawn of her life. While the past was lingering on, through the thinking course, terror made a stealthy entrance into the Army Public School of Peshawar and the media channels soon reported that it was a Cold Blooded December Morning in Peshawar… The day dampened into redness of thick fluid which runs through every human’s body; perhaps those unimaginable creatures, who made the bold headlines on 16th December, also had a red fluid in their bodies.


Whichever route they took, those slayers reached the main auditorium of APS… They sprayed bullets at innocent children, they handpicked students and butchered them at the altar of an incomprehensible ideal… They set ablaze the bodies of humans… The air would have carried oxygen comprising atoms of fright, fear, terror, horror, trepidation, tyranny, savagery, cruelty, brutality, animalty, barbarianism… Children are the most adorable and lovable beings, they are innocent, sensitive and frail. Did they realize what those weapons were? Could they visualize what was happening? Did they cry and beg for mercy? Did they snivel to be spared? Could they speak or their throats bulked with last bubbles of life? Did their hearts pound against their rib gate to break through it? Those who survived the inhuman beheading and slaughtering would have been crucified mentally. Sucking in their fearful breaths, suppressing their violent heartbeats, being spanked by their iron feet, lying frozen like a blue corpse, bundled with dead friends or under bleeding bodies…. What would have they been thinking, whom would have they been calling out to…. What could have happened if they mourned? What could have happened if their eyelid fluttered?


Loss, pain, grief, agony, anguish, bereavement, trauma, affliction, tribulation; the dawn of December16,2015 had broken with…. A Cold Blooded Morning… The sun had not dared to shine,it would have been a bloody red dusk had it done so… The nation was left mourning and lamenting over the loss of approximately hundred and fifty tender lives. The children of the victimized yet alleged nation had been ripped to flesh bits by the ferocious creatures, in fury of being targeted.


The Naive Commentator read and heard the international community condemning the barbaric act, showing resolve to eliminate the scourge of terrorism and extremism. She also read and heard the cause of attack as “going to school.” She could not comprehend the ironic difference between the confession of the criminals and the published statement of the case. Was the confessed reaction to military action the reality or was going to school the actual sin?


January12,2015 was another cold day in Lahore, temperature had dropped by a few degrees over the month, when the Naive Commentator again woke up to the morning call. It was the start of the third week of the new year and the morning was misty cold yet not quiet. She had woken up on an exam day not a holiday. Her brain cells were active in thinking as she flew across her room gathering her stuff and, ironically, her thoughts revolved around December16…. December16,2014…. It had been a cold blooded morning and the pigment was still thick red in her eyes… She had the reel rolling in her head and the visuals tuned to her sight…. She had fears of seeing a bloody reality…. She had reached the entrance gate of her institute as the needle on her watch kept ticking with fluctuating visuals in her sight. For the first time, after the initial first ten odd days at the institute, she had to get her identity verified before entering her home of learning. The identity card which gripped the glossy wallet pocket had, at last, come out for this time her very recognizable face required recognition unlike before. Marching on the bricked walkway past the grass green lawns and the baked red brick structure, she made a realization that seeing those images in grass green and baked red was her and the nation’s Victory. APS Peshawar had let its gates swing open again: Welcome the Seekers of Knowledge, Messengers of Love, Preachers of Peace…


January16,2015…. Exactly a month past the barbaric slaughtering of the children of the nation, the hearts beat for those innocent subjects of unjustifiable abimalty. December16,2014 will never be forgotten, the blood of our Shohada (martyrs) will never dry black…

The most resilient nation of the planet, the epitome of courage, stands up… We bow to one God only, we submit to the Almighty only, we fear the Lord of Judgement only… We will never forget, we will never let it be forgotten, we will avenge and our revenge lies in our progression…


Pakistan Zindabad !

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