IF I COULD TALK TO YOU ONE LAST TIME

The first time I saw Prasad, July 14th 2012.

"In my dreams

I'll always see you soar

Above the sky

In my heart

There will always be a place

For you for all my life

I'll keep a part

Of you with me

And everywhere I am

There you'll be"

I can’t forget a single minute of the very first time I saw him; something for which I was teased and even called ‘creepy’. July 14th, 2012, a group of musicians walked into the assembly hall of my school. We had our cultural fests going on, and I was the MC. The last minute stress of changing half the script was massive for an 11th grader who hadn’t really done this before. While I was hovering around my teacher asking for the names of those musicians, who were now setting up their instruments, I began to point at each of them, till I reached the last one that stood out from the rest. All of them were in white, he was in green. All of them were talking; he was looking straight back at me. It took me around 5 seconds to realize that I wasn’t just pointing; I was ogling like a retarded child. “That’s Prasad”, my teacher said, and I immediately wrote down his name; not in the script, but in a piece of paper. I had already decided to stalk this guy. The afternoon passed by soon, and I kept searching for him. The last time I saw him was on July 14th, 2012, standing at the door of the assembly hall, after the show; staring back. The moment I went home, I gathered some guts to talk to a senior of mine, Rajesh, whom I’d have never spoken to otherwise, just to trick him into giving me Prasad’s Facebook address.

Today, March 02nd 2015, the same Rajesh sent me a message on Facebook to inform me that Prasad had passed away. 

Later that night, after the fest, I contemplated a lot and sent him a request. I waited but nothing happened. The next evening, when I logged in, the first message was from Prasad; which I have till date. “heyyyy nice to see u here ... and trust me u r the best MC i've seen ... and to meet you after MCing in rotary club the previous nite,you made me realize there are many more talented n beautiful MCs around”.

I couldn’t believe it. And that’s how we began talking. There are few things in life that can’t be explained. Few relationships that need no description, few things that happen that have no reason. I didn’t speak much to my friends about how I’d actually managed to talk to this guy, and I don’t really know why. But I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to anyone who I hadn’t met (in person) in more than 2 and a half years about everything on earth. I don’t think anyone would have the patience to talk even after I blatantly refused to meet him or her, but he did. 

And the last time I spoke to him, I asked him never to talk to me again. I wish he hadn’t taken that seriously. I wish that was one thing God didn’t take seriously. And I’d give anything to go back in time and talk to him again; just talk to him and ask him to stay. I wish I could let him know how important he was to me. But something tells me that he knew. 

From encouraging me to write and paint to being one of the driving forces while I chose my professional course, from asking me to be brave and being there for me whenever I was weak, to putting up with all my drama and insults and still not giving up, from being a friend who was so much more than just that to teaching me how to be one too, he changed my life even without meeting me. Those occasional phone calls, the muffled laughter at my stupidity, his requests for me to sing for him once, the immediate review of everything I ever did, even if it was something as small as a doodle, or something as big as my valedictorian speech, everything has framed me into becoming a better person, and I can never thank him enough for that. 

Why did you have to leave? Why is it that so many people want to die, but are never given a chance to, and people like you who make everyone’s life better by being a part of it are taken away by not being given a choice? Why were you made to leave? Why you, of all the people? I guess this is a question neither of us can ever answer. Now, as much as I regret never meeting you, I guess it was a good thing that I didn’t, or how would I take this loss? Tell me. 

Prasad, I don’t know if I can talk to you now and if you’d listen. I don’t know if you will ever reply to me in any way, but I’m so sorry for all the stupid things I’ve ever said or done. And I’m so grateful, that you were a part of my life, still are, and will be forever. Thank you, for being such an amazing friend, guide and support. Not for once will I think it was stupid to stalk you and make you talk to me, because it brought me closer to you and I am eternally grateful for that. Thank you for making me who I am today and I know, that in that way, you’ll be with me forever. You asked me never to stop doing what I love, and I promise that I’ll always keep that in mind. I promise never to stop writing, because you told me you'd read even if no one else did. I promise to live the life that you thought I would, and I promise to be true to it. And I promise to always make you a part of it. 

I love you- always have; always will. 

Rest in peace Prasad, I miss you. 

R.I.P: REST IN PIECES?

“What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans and the homeless, whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of totalitarianism or in the holy name of liberty or democracy?” 

― Mahatma Gandhi

The only child to survive, standing in the middle of ruins, searching eagerly through the rumbles; dusts, dirt, smoke and blood. She is searching for her brothers, who took care of her. Her mother; where was she? She was supposed to serve lunch. After all, Ma had promised to cook her favourite dish. She doesn’t search for her father; she knows he is in a place she can’t go to. Crying and frightened, she’s going in circles. Searching for anything she can find; aimlessly, madly. She finally finds a hand sticking out in the ruins, and she runs for it. Her mother’s hand; she holds it, she feels safe. But something was wrong. Why wasn’t Ma holding her back? She carefully bends down, to look at Ma’s face, and ask her why. But she doesn’t look at her mother, she looks at a face; eyes open, staring back infinitely, cold… dead. The girl screams. She falls back, stands up, and screams; there is nothing else she can do. This place was her home; now, a graveyard. She turns to run, but she freezes at the sight of a rifle pointing at her. Her killer looks at her, forgets her innocence; forgets his. He aims at her, searching for a blank space. Ah, her forehead.

She breathes her last.

Now, go back to the first sentence. What if that child was you? What if you were the one instead of her? What if it was your child in that place, and you could do nothing about it? How would you feel? 

Trying to think of an answer? Don’t bother, because you are no way near to what it actually must have felt like to the thousands who face such situations every day when their countries go on wars for peace. What you know, is how it feels to be still sitting on your couch, reading this article, a roof above your head, and some food to eat. But not everybody lives a blessed life like yours. 

Perhaps the biggest irony that was ever existed lies in the famous quote, “War for Peace”; none of us truly understand it though. No, I’m not saying the Defence isn’t necessary. After all, to a soldier, what’s standing in front of him doesn’t matter; he’s fighting for what is behind him. And there must be a reason. But funnily enough, nobody can understand what that reason is. No one can see the reason. Thousands of Dollars/Rupees/Euros go into building the army of a country; even quarter of which doesn’t go the poor and starving of the same country. Personally, I don’t understand the point of this. Each country invests millions of Dollars in nuclear weapons. Thousands of weapons lie around; some are not even accounted. There are an estimated total of 20,500 nuclear warheads in the world today. If the average power of these devices is 33,500 Kilotons, there are enough to destroy the total earth landmass." And why do we need so many of these things again? Who is going to stand here and witness the amazing after effect of war, and everything you’ve conquered if there is nobody alive? No, I’m not going to talk about war, and the causes of war, because we know there are many; religion, land, oil, terrorism, ‘combating terrorism’, the list goes on. Name the causes of peace? The one and only cause is war itself. Without rain, there wouldn’t be sunshine. Without dusk, there wouldn’t be dawn. Without war, nobody would ever know what the value of peace is. And today, we’ve had enough wars to show us that now is the time we need to start respecting the place of peace in our lives. I’m not here to talk about war and its effects. I’m here to talk about peace.

It’s not easy as you think it is; peace is harder than war. The day you drop those rifles, the day you give your children flowers instead of guns; that is the day you’ll find peace. But who would make them drop the guns in the first place? Nobody. Everyone wants change today; nobody is ready to change though. We see war on television, we see number of deaths, number of injuries, but not once we do think of what happens after the war has ended? Those who survive war do not see life the way we do; they’re scarred forever. You think terrorists are born? No, terrorists are made! And situations make them that way. Wars make them terrorists. Their parents were innocent people, killed in war for oil, killed due to religion, killed in search of one man, who wasn’t related to them in any way. If you hadn’t invested on war, but instead invested on their education, they’d know what their religion truly meant. They’d have the power to sit and think straight, like you and I. The war for peace is itself a form of terrorism. By killing millions of innocent people every year, how are you restoring peace? By not feeding the poor, the needy and the backward, how are you restoring peace? By not providing education, by not showing what love is, for not letting them live to feel love, how are you restoring peace? 

I wouldn’t say war isn’t necessary; but how long? Do we- the civilized people, the ones who know how to care, nurture and cherish- need war for this long? Is it really victory? In war, the only victory you claim is over a million dead bodies, which will rot eventually. What was the use of war all along, if the result doesn’t last even a few days? But peace; it gives you the power to let a person live. You are gifting a person the most precious thing on earth: life. Peace is not a philosophy. Peace is something that has to be experienced. No matter what you have achieved in life, if you have not experienced peace, then everything feels empty; incomplete. This is not for someone else. This is for you. You need peace, and the person next to you does too. Every human being can fulfil their heart, can fulfil this life. Gift a mother another day with her child. Gift a young girl another day with her brother. Gift a father another day with his family. Gift a lover another day with his reason to live. Gift a baby another reason to smile, to grow up, and to look forward to being a part of this world. It is the most beautiful thing possible in this short life. Why can’t we be a part of it?

SINCE WHEN DID SPILLING INNOCENT BLOOD BECOME THE ONLY SOLUTION?

“An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.” – Mahatma Gandhi

We come across this quote more than often. We see it, we hear it, but do we understand it? The answer we received came as no shock when we saw the headlines read out “132 children killed as Taliban gunmen storm Peshawar school” on the 16^th of December, 2014.

And that answer is ‘No.’

When one talks about the gruesome killing that took place in Peshawar, Pakistan, we are immediately reminded of the headlines the news show us, the information they provide, the statistics showing the number of deaths, and probably a moment or two of sadness that we are duty bound to express. We post statuses, write blogs, discuss all about these killings, but do you really think the terrorists groomed by Taliban care about your opinion? No, they don’t. But do you think you can change one human’s view about revenge, about terrorism? Then don’t think twice before posting a status against it. The slaughter, carried out by six Taliban terrorists, is the single worst terror attack in the country's history and one of the most brutal assaults on a school anywhere. Even in conflict-driven Pakistan, it came as an unprecedented act.

The Pakistani Taliban took responsibility for the massacre, calling it retaliation for the military's ongoing campaign against the Taliban militants' strongholds in the tribal areas along the border with Afghanistan. Mohammad Khurasani, the spokesperson of Taliban, accused the Pakistan Army of killing innocent children and families of Taliban fighters, and warned the world that more is yet to come. For the Pakistani Taliban, schools are vulnerable, or often called "soft targets." By some accounts, Taliban has struck at more than 1,000 schools in the country since 2009. All of this is merely to feed one word; revenge. Revenge is an immortal word with its root dug deep into our minds. Often, it is worse than the word ‘terrorism’. The description of terrorism is vague, because to the world, Taliban are terrorists; to them, we are. But the meaning of revenge stays constant throughout. As hard as it is to ignore the fact- even for a split second- that the Peshawar killing took innocent lives of children who deserved to live a beautiful life; we cannot overlook the hundreds who suffer and die due to public health crisis. Polio has paved its way back among children after the Taliban militants banned health workers from distributing vaccines, which was a consequence of the vaccination gambit by the CIA, in its search for Osama bin Laden. This has not only affected the civilians of Pakistan, but has also taken its toll on the Taliban families.

The Pakistani Taliban came into existence as a loose coalition of militant factions in Pakistan's restive border areas around 2007. It is an indigenous movement that largely targets the machinery of the state and Pakistani citizens, and its motive is to impose Shariah law on the country. Defeating the group, though, has proved to be extremely difficult. Complex geopolitics and funding from other terrorist groups, political appeasement, conspiracy mongering and denial serve as factors that feed the existence of Taliban.

In a world full of hatred and misery, bloodbaths and seclusion, helplessness and loneliness, one can only hope for a ray of happiness or a fragment of peace to settle on their lives; not the ashes that are carried in the air- ashes from the thousands of innocent human beings killed every day. Ashes of people who didn’t deserve what they got. Ashes of people who looked at the killer, right in the eye, and hoped for nothing except a peaceful world. Another day to look forward to; but were never granted their wish.

When the photos of the terrorists who carried out the massacre were released, the terrorists were seen holding automatic assault rifles and rocket launchers. We can never imagine what it must have felt like, but we can surely imagine the gaze of those cold eyes fixed on the child. The child, helplessly looking at his killer, with hopes to find mercy in those eyes, hopes to see his parents again, hopes to play with his sister after school, hope that he would survive. Instead, he was shot in the head at point blank range, and was tossed into the pile of other children, lying drenched in blood; cold. Dead. We can imagine the pain of the teacher who was burnt alive. We can imagine the state of the children trying to escape the militants, who went from one classroom to another, shooting indiscriminately. We can imagine the horror one boy has to live with, because he was the only one to survive out of the 10 friends who tried to escape. We can imagine the terror on the face of the woman whose daughter had escaped because her clothing was covered in blood from those around her and she had lain pretending to be dead. We can imagine the scores of survivors who were being treated in hospitals as frantic parents searched for news of their children. We can only imagine the same happening with the families of the Taliban militants. 

We can never feel it, we can only imagine.

It is harder to keep someone alive, than to kill them. It is harder to instil peace, than to declare war. It is hard, but not impossible. We may not be able to stop Taliban today, but we can teach our generation to value human life. We can teach them that love is a greater weapon than hatred. We can teach them that issues can be solved without violence if one can listen to the problem and search for a solution. We can try, not by telling them what or how to think, but to just think.

We can teach them that the best revenge is to not be like your enemy.