Gun shots and shattered dreams

He sat staring at the television kept in the corner of the dusty room. He had just lit the cigarette and the pattern of the smoke took all his attention. The people on the screen were going crazy but nothing mattered to him anymore. He sat back looking at it burn away just like he wanted his life to. Light hardly filled the room through the drapes.

Doctor – that was his dream. He saw him in white overcoat with the stethoscope hanging from his neck. He smiled at the thought, and the smoke rushed out. He was tired, his lungs felt heavy each time he dragged in the wretched magical poison. Through the smoke he could see him helping the poor in the hospital, going around the villages serving the needy. The thought of his name appearing on the newspapers and televisions made him smile again. The shelves in the house filled with the awards he would receive for his outstanding contribution towards human kind.

peshawar

The burnt ash falls on his thighs but he wouldn’t move; he is still caught in his thoughts. They were screams and shouts in the TV – justifications and explanations! Nothing mattered to him anymore. He knows that his dreams would just be dreams. His dreams were wiped away by his blood. His life was cold and pale just like his lifeless body. The last touch of his son’s warm body was when we held his hands tightly just before sending him to the class just to hold his cold body at the end. The tiny hands and tiny legs smeared with blood. His tiny little eyes still wide open but sad and frightened. Those eyes always shined when he called him out.

Now nothing mattered to him- the reasons, the justifications, the explanation, and the promises for action! For him, his child was killed, for him his dream was shattered. The flame that pushed him to live was put out just like the stub of the cigarette. He lit another one and continued giving a damn about nothing!

My heart goes to the parents who have lost their dreams and hopes in the very unfortunate unjustifiable incident.

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