Due to the attacks in the last couple of days, social media has gone into overdrive.
Every Facebook page, every newspaper, had something to say about the attacks. “Tragic”, “horrified” “not humans” was the flavor of the day. Hillary Clinton was remembered and quoted by pseudo intellectuals or compulsive people who had to forward something to show their grief. Heck, even I liked the quote when I read it.
The news affected everyone. In order to overcome the grief, a writer naturally started writing. If I would have been an artist I would have painted the color red or some war drawings with kids in the background; if I were an actor, I would have started working on a screenplay.
The world is full of tragedies, you see, and when it is magnified, each one wants their grief to be shared. The newspapers quoted the number of people killed without informing the world how many survived.
Social media is like a one way psychiatrist; people need to vent and I respect that. So till a certain point, I let it slide. A lot of pages started writing stories from the point of view of the children, the parents and the militants as well, each more heart wrenching than the previous. I am sorry but I didn’t have the stomach to read most of them after a while.
In this entire media circus, we forgot someone is actually reading all the messages and laughing. Don’t you think someone sitting within the Taliban is probably patting themselves on their back, seeing all the uproar on social media about the attacks?
Don’t you think we should stop giving them the opportunity to feel good about themselves with these constant updates about the attack? They are no longer your average Joe. They may have hired brainwashed illiterate people to kill, but someone on the top of the group is a tech savvy moron who is probably enjoying this show.
If a person didn’t feel remorse after shooting children, do you thing he will feel remorse after seeing your R.I.P messages?
Why are we giving him the satisfaction and even encouragement to do something again of this proportion?
They kill every day. Last week they massacred so many. Do we really want a day dedicated to them? To highlight their deeds?
The next day while buttoning the shirt of my son and sending him to school, I realized some mothers must have got up to an empty bed. While combing his hair, with each stroke, I was more hesitant to send him to school. I silently wished he would tell me he had a tummy ache and he wanted to stay home. The fear that the person instilled in me was winning.
But sanity was restored and I had to believe that things will be fine.
Death is permanent. Mistakes can be corrected, words can be taken back, apologies can be given, photographs can be taken again but death can’t be reversed. And that is what the man sitting with the trigger in his hand on a faraway mountain knows. He knows what cripples nations, what will start wars and spread even more hatred.
Yes, you killed a child but you will not see me shed any more tears. I stand with the other parents in their grief but I am not afraid of you.
Here, see me smile.