Parents smell their children. They inhale their presence deep into their soul. Maybe it is an addiction. Or affection. Maybe it is the fulfillment of being. Maybe it is because the two are one. Whatever the reason, it is the ultimate form of love and honesty.
Parents breathe in their kids.
And then there are those who sniff kids too. They prey on them. They plan and target and then unleash their ugliness on those who don’t even know what they are being put through.
Just like another incident. Just like the previous one. And the previous one. And the…
A raped kid has raped parents.
A bleeding kid has bleeding parents.
An unstitched kid has unstitched parents.
A dead kid has dead parents.
Just like a special kid has special parents.
Imagine yourself at the other end of the eternal torture. Parents do. They imagine this all the time.
Imagine your kid being raped. Imagine your kid in a coffin. Imagine your kid bleeding. Imagine your kid missing. Imagine your kid being lowered in the ground.
Imagine your kid’s school being live-telecasted with bullet sounds on TV.
Imagine the everyday tragedy of the children of this land.
A missing child. To a raped one. To a dead one.
It’s this society which is dead. It’s stinking. Isn’t it? Utterly grotesque.
This is the rape capital for children.
Welcome!
You can rape kids here. Anywhere. On streets. In shops. In mosques. In schools. At home. Anywhere!
So welcome again!
Again, and again!
To another 100.
To another century.
To another victim.
Everyday.
Twice a day.
Because it is a dead rapists’ society.
From incident to incident to just another incident. From child to child to just another child. From rapist to rapist to just another man.
There needs to be an overhaul of minds. Not just physical punishments. But un-learning and re-learning. With this police force, this bureaucracy, these intelligence agencies, this rotten educational system, overpopulation, and the barbed militarization of the country, Pakistan will keep producing victims. Because it’s the shed that’s breeding such minds and men.
A child in the morning. A poor person at noon. And a woman at night.
And tomorrow shall bring just another day.
Just another incident.
For us. To mourn.
