Terrorists Have Bombed My Future by Killing My Children

His name was Akbar which means great in Arabic. I guess that is a name given to men who aspire to replenish weary souls and become staunch in times of turmoil. He was a splendid soul. Loved chocolates cricket and cartoons. I will always remember him as the C boy of the town. But the element of his soul that I will miss the most is his remarkable and exuberant smile. He could smile at everything. And that is exactly what he did. He smiled at the old man crossing the streets to the birds chirping in the early mornings.

“I wanna be a policeman” he explained to me one day as we sat beneath the warmth of the shadow.
“All in due time”
“Why not now? What does it take?”
“Time is of the essence. You need to get an education, apply and hopefully the doors of opportunity will knock”
He had his peculiar smile on his petal lips again. For a twelve year old, he certainly could gets away with murder with that smile. He realized that life will have a full impact. But patience and time will be the key ingredients to his success. I had even prayed for him that night.
His father worked in the tavern making socks and his mother washed clothes in neighborhood homes. He was never ashamed of his low class status. My father used to give him money for his studies. One day he came rushing in and proclaiming how he got second position in his class. That night we all celebrated.

He reminded me of the potential of this nation. I had lived most of my life in United States and knew of hundreds of poor and innocent souls who were able to win marvelous victories for themselves. The world has seen a fleet of gentlemen who were able to incur the animadversion of life and still become victors of their fate. Great men have come to surface as life itself has aggrandized them in history.

I remember visiting the tomb of Abraham Lincoln in Springfield, IL. One of the greatest presidents who left behind an indelible imprint as a poor man who rose to the throne. History reminds us that he was born in a cabin and walked to school and hardly had any money to pay for his fees. Imagine a world that gave that poor man the opportunity to be the most powerful man on earth. Similarly, other great magical moments were given to the man without the hefty principles of luck and fate. Not everyone was born into greatness. Everyone never has the bizarre gift of being born a Kennedy. Some people have to proselytize their entire life to become what is expected about them.

Akbar could have been a magnanimous leader and shown the world that he too can have the opportunity to rule the world. His life yet would simply surcease in his primal youth. A devastating bomb ripped his body into a thousand pieces. His mother weeps for him still. Imagine a world where mothers bury their children. And streets remember nothing more than the nemesis sounds of despair and bloodshed. Our graveyards have more dead bodies of youth than any country in the world. Even Palestine seems to lessen their wounds looking at the horrific pictures.

For just a moment, think if that was your child. If it were my child! Could you carry that beautiful burden to the grave? Could you say the unsaid goodbyes? Could you place flowers on your rose? Could you look at life and wonder if this was the hands of god? Relentless nights and painful dreary mornings follow pursuit. Copious and illustrious memories of love will haunt you till the grave. This is the freedom of democracy we live in. this is the Pakistan that we find each day in our bizarre and streets. I am not going to be silent anymore. I will write about my youth dying. I will write about the memories that his soul could have given to his family. I will write about the murder of mankind. My country has become the devils abattoir. Our freedom, integrity and solace are being sold. Stop this menace.
Create barricades for the leaders. Communicate our words. We are free men. We are men with a choice. Stop killing our children. Stop ambushing our dreams.

I will remember Akbar. I will remember all the Abraham Lincoln’s that die each day in our lands. Why are the culprits still alive? Will you forget that the jewels of our tomorrow have been bombarded and their bones shattered? If they feel scared, our future is lost. If they tremble to walk outside, they will not build our buildings and edifices. If they cry at night at sounds, they will not forgive us for our silence. Today, to you, only Akbar died.
But to me, the entire opportunity of prosperity died. He could have been another Quaid E Azam. We let him die.