Why did you kill me?
Why did you kill me and my dreams?
When I saw the lamentations from the tragedy of the Battle of Karbala being recited during my funeral, I wanted to shout. I wanted to console my parents, wipe their tears, tell them that I am with them. But alas! I am not. There is no me on the earth now. I am helpless and will remain so.
I, Rafiya Nazir, 18 years old, always wanted to be a doctor and my parents believed in me. When my 12th class result was declared recently, I scored 93% in it. I was so hardworking that I scored 98 marks in biology. I so wanted to see myself in the doctor’s apron and stethoscope in my hands. I had even started to imagine myself in one.
My parents were so proud and happy for me. My father Nazir Ahmad Tinda used to see a doctor in me. He was all set to invest in my studies and make me self-reliant. I could see a sparkle in their eyes for me. I could see my bright future in their eyes. Everything was going so well. As we were still enjoying the first step of my success, our happiness turned into grief. That man with the grenade finished it all. He shattered my dreams, he took me away from Papa and Mama. He left my elder sister all alone.
What was my fault? Why did you kill me? Did I know you? Did you know me? Did you know that uncle who was killed with me? Did you know those people who were injured with me? Had we ever done any harm to you?
Then why did you kill us? Why did you shatter my family’s dream? What was our fault? What did you achieve by killing me, by killing all of us? There can be no justification for such a reprehensible attack. Allah will not forgive you for it. You think you shall attain hoor in jannat for this attack? No. For bringing untimely death to others, Allah will burn you in hell. What was my fault? Tell me! Tell me! I had just gone to Lal Chowk for some shopping and to buy books with my mother and elder sister. We were happily walking. All of a sudden you threw a grenade. You didn’t even think for a second that we were innocent. You mindlessly
We heard a big blast and got injured by the sharp things flying around. My body got torn by those sharp things. I had no time to compile what had happened to me. I fell unconscious and rest I don’t know. When I woke up, I was in another world. I was in heaven wearing white clothes but this white cloth was not my doctor’s apron. It was my Kafan. I met a lot of youngsters who too were fallen by unknown bullets at different times. I learned here that they too had dreams like me, family-like mine but were killed by terrorists without their fault.
I was not ready for this. I was not ready to leave my family. I was crying and trying to find a way to get back to my Mama, Papa. They are crying like hell. I can’t see my mother crying like this. Who will take care of my family? Who will be Papa’s princess? Who will irritate mama? Who will be my sister’s best friend? I can’t see my family wailing for me like this.
All the men and women and youngsters and children whose death you all had caused before me came and tried to console me. They too were not happy because they were concerned about their family and wanted to know about them. The youngsters and children asked me how their parents were feeling when they were snatched from them. I had no answers. I saw their pain. I saw the pain in its rawest form. I had only one thing that I could tell them. Buds are falling to the bullets of hate and there is no blossom in our spring.