I was mother of a son till yesterday when a bomb blast took this privilege of life from me. My son lost his life in this attack. Unfortunately, I am not alone. See there! these are all mothers and sisters who have lost their loved ones. These are all those who have a reason not to smile for rest of their lives.
I don’t know what my son did, what was his crime, what did he do to be killed brutally? I know he was Shia, but is it a crime?
Someone has killed my motherhood. That someone calls himself a Muslim, I know. How dare he can call himself a Muslim when he cannot call himself a human? Who gave him this right? Who the hell gave him this duty to kill? Who is he? How can I curse him? Oh Rabba!
With all other ill-fated families, I am not burying my son. For the sake of our breathing ones, we are taking this bold step of not burying our non-breathing ones until we get a promising word of justice. We want protection. Your silence has killed my son; now speak with me to stop this genocide. If you have a reason, talk to us. You can teach us, you can argue; but you cannot kill us.
Prophets didn’t kill people. Companions of Prophets didn’t kill people. They were used to preach through harmony and peace. In the worst cases, they were used to leave. They never killed. They never started genocide.
I remember how my Prophet PBUH treated Abu Jahl when he reached height of disrespect. My Prophet PBUH just changed his way. He PBUH didn’t kill Abu Jahl.
What is the reason behind your killing? How you encourage someone to this worst level of act against humanity?
Do you use money? Shame!
Do you blackmail? Shame!
Do you use religion? Shame!
Do you use Islam? SHAME!
How dare you use my religion to kill my son?
Before yesterday, I was full of motherhood, love, harmony and peace. Since yesterday, I have become a body who is cursing everything around her. I wish all the mothers die before seeing their motherliness lying in front of them with such brutality. I wish I would have died before yesterday.
This is the body of my son. Yes this is his blood. This is blood of a Muslim, a Muhammadi, a Husseini, a Pakistani and a martyr. I’m not burying him till I get a promising word of safety for all other sons around. You cannot imagine at what stage of life I am now as I myself never thought of it. I never thought that this life will take me to this verge of obscurity. But here I am standing with my dead son.
I will leave quietly as soon as you will give me justice. I will leave when you guarantee the protection of my people. Then I will bury my son. I will leave this road. I will go back to my home where I have enough space and life to grieve.
Please give me justice and let my son have a proper burial. You didn’t treat him right when he was alive. Please treat him right when he is no more. Stand beside and speak with me!