I have been staring at the monitor for a while now, wondering what to write. No where to begin. There's so much that I'm itching to say. So much that's been happening. MT would have perhaps labelled this as Random Crap and be done with it. I can't somehow agree with that title, even though at the end of the it does seem an exercise in futility. Sign. It's one of those days.
More than 30 people died in the twin blasts in Hyderabad. One of the sites, Koti, is where we go to buy second hand books for cheap. We were there last week. And yes, we went to Gokul Chat too. A week ago.
I read this news report, about a victim. A man, who had taken a deture to get a snack for his wife, who had been fasting. He lost his life in that blast. I wonder how his wife will ever get over the incident. The last line of the story, quoted her saying that their son, just in the first year of his college, will now have to take up a job to support the family.
More than the man, more than the wife, I felt angry for that boy. He'd have had plans. He'd have had dreams for his life, which he now has to put on hold, probably forget about altogether. Why?
Whenever there is a blast, an act of terror, everyone harps about the victims. The pain of the survivours. And the compensation given by the government. But what are a few thousands going to do to help this boy? Unexpected death. That term makes no sense to me. When do we really ever expect to die? His father would not have planned to die that day. He'd have had obligations, liabilities. Promises made, and meant to be kept. All that now on that young boy's head. He'll learn to cope you'd say. Yes, we always do. Probably a few years from now, his proud tearful mother will say that her son grew up, and took the family's responsibility after his father unexpected death. And he'd probably smile. But will he ever forget the dreams that he buried along with his father's body? He could have been great, but now he'll only be a survivour.
Where terror wins is that it leaves a void where there was a person. It leaves a blank noice where there was laughter. Tears will dry. And people will move on. But lives will be altered. Forever. They don't take lives, they take dreams. And no Mr. Minister, you cannot compensate that with money.
