Last night reading a book, I suddenly started feeling irritated for no apparent reason. I put the book down and started walking around the house. Did a little stretching, and some deep breathing routine. I have never liked going to bed with a heavy heart and irritated soul.

I discovered some fresh scars. Peshawar bomb blast – a shia moulana targetted and killed – a wounded infant in his father‘s arms, and most of all the expression on this father’s face.

I had heard this news in the afternon. We, – meaning I and my family – talked about this, talked just as we are now so used to discussing such “waqaiyat” and then everyone went back to what everyone was doing before this four sided discussion. I do not know about others but that face stayed with me a long time and then finally disappeared in the afternoon routine. Cannot say about others but I had pushed it to some far corner of my mind.

While pacing from family room to the office – the far corner of the house and back, that face surfaced. I sat down and cried; saying sorry, sorry, sorry, again and again. Like I was the one who had done that. Sitting here, on this side of the World, thousands of miles away, I was feeling like I was responsible for causing that grief – that grief on that silent face. What was he thinking holding his child in his arms, looking at his injuries. Was he also saying sorry to his son? I cried.

There is no way to know how his son is now. Did he open his eyes and smiled at his father, did the wamth in his mother’s lap put soothing balm on his wounds. No way to know that. A prayer for him for all the little angels was sent on its way to heavens, hoping that Someone High Up Would Listen, would do something but He had already said a long, long time ago that He would help only those, who would try helping themselves first.
Please, please, make some amendment in your doctrine… look at the suffering. I said. Did He listen?

This morning when I got up, I was feeling fine. That moment when I first open my eyes and the first thought that comes to me, is important. After a few moments I put my hand out and picked up a book from my night table, put on my reading glasses and opened the book. There it was :

unhein manzoor apnaiy zakhmiyon ka daikh aana tha
othhaiy thaiy sair e gul ko, dekhna shokhi bhanaiy ki
(ghalib)

What a beautiful, beautiful couplet. I had the feeling I would be okay. This was my first relaxed and calm moment and I had this feeling that things would be alright. I know I am not a chronic optimist but when was the last time worring did me any good. Pakistan is going through a difficult time but things that go down, come up again. This is the circle of life. We shall emerge victorious; I am optimistic about that.

I thought about a dear friend who is pouting for the last week or so and smiled. Then I picked up my Nexus 7 and wrote my status of the day and got out of bed.

2/5/2014
mid morning.