But then you struggle growing up, growing up to feel what other feel, growing up to learn there is more suffereing than your own, so you saddle your own, and time and again get burdened with grief around you, you shed some here and there, but you move on, and carry most of it with you. That is the norm.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
A couple of days ago, a friend's mother lost her life. You see, i dont know the person personally. I know her through instagram, but when i learnt that her mother lost to cancer, and that she is no more, i was overwhelmed with tears, i couldnt see or think straight. I just couldnt imagine to be in her shoes, i could never be. How would i? I love my Mum, i might annoy her, and not listen to her, and think she's always telling me off, and what not, but i love her. I love my Mum. And to think, to even try to imagine being without her, the mere thought sent chills down my spine.
I came home that day and hugged my mum, and let her know how much she means to me, not that she doesnt know that already, but i just wanted to hold her, to feel that hand of hers stroke my hair, hug me tight. The warmth that i could feel from her heart to mine. I wanted that. I didnt want to let go.
A day or two later, the world learnt of Phil Hughes' death, he had been battling with life, the world had been praying for him to live through, but he couldnt make it. His interview popped into my head, the one where he talked about being a farm boy, loving his family, growing up with his dad, spending any extra time that he had with his loved ones, to learn that he was living his dream, and that killed him. It was so hard to come to terms with. It really was.
It wasn't a fictional film that would end, neither was it a staged reality show, a directed series, it was reality. What we all were living. There was no rewind button, nothing to bring it back. Nothing to fast forward or to change.
It hurt not just me, but the cricket fraternity, the community, the world in general. Everyone put their bats out, everyone remembered him. Everybody felt the grief, the love. They were one. We were one.
The #SydneySiege was another incident a day or two back, moving people to the edge. The aftermath expected for Muslims around the globe, the backlash, the hatred, just because of one bloody individual, an individual sick in the head. But surprisingly, like the Canadians, the trend of supporting fellow Muslims in Australia warmed the heart.
Humanity was prevalent. It is talked about not as much as it should be, but it was there. And hearing that brought some sanity to the rather ridiculous routine of pessimism.
Another friend lost her Dad, again, i didnt know her in person, i know her through instagram. But to realise she lost something that i have, and how grateful i should be, and how i would never be able to face such a disaster, and how she was going through one. And how i could not help but pray for everything. I just didnt have the heart and soul to continue. Not an inch of hope to continue.
That was until i woke up this morning, 16th December 2014. I rubbed my eyes, tapped my Facebook app, and read the news, the devastating news that something was wrong. Something was wrong and people were dying and everyone was talking about it. Something was wrong with a school, my heart sank, i scrolled a little more, and to what i saw, i felt like my heart had stopped. Two kids in APS uniforms, being escorted by Army men, tears rolled down my eyes, to learn of the number, to learn why it took place, to learn about the area, to learn that your family lives nearby, to learn about your friends.
I sobbed, and i cried, and i still am, i dont know how to stop the flow of these tears. If i am going through this unimaginable pain, when i personally do not know anybody from the place, but the school uniform, the backgrounds, brings me closer. To know they were somebody's brother or little sister, somebody's heart and soul, somebody gave birth to them, somebody worked day and night for them to get what they wanted, to do anything for the smiles that they ever smiled, to see how they melted your heart, how could i ever comprehend, or put into words what their families might be going through.
I havent stopped crying, i know it sounds ridiculous, and maybe uncalled for, but i dont know how to stop. I dont know how to help, and i dont know how this will end.
I just dont know.
I feel so lost.
And that is what kills me inside every minute, not knowing.
But what i do know, is that Allah is the best of Judges, and to know that He will not spare a human soul until they recieve justice is what gets me through. To know that those children will be in Jannah, smiling, free from pain and agony, with the angels enjoying in a safer place, is what gets me through.
What i can't get out my head is the imagery imagined of the brutality and barbarity of those bastards, those aboslutely shallow low life scums, of how they went about the whole situation, to lock themselves up in rooms and to blow themselves up, to set alight the teachers present in the rooms, to shoot until rounds were finished, to ask if they were army brats and shoot them point blank, to know how they murdered and... I just dont know how to get out of this.
Indeed, every soul shall taste death, i hope i never hurt a soul knowingly or unknowingly, i hope i never hurt anybody, that i never cause pain to any soul, and that if i have, i beg of their mercy,
I hope my prayers are heard, and that i dont ask for anything unjust, i hope Allah protects Pakistan, i hope Allah protects Pakistanis.
I hope Allah Ta'ala is always there for me when i need to keep my sanity, and that i always, no matter how good times are or when they are at their absolute worst, lose hope in Allah's mercy and His plans.
For He plans, and we know nothing of.
These bloody terrorists will InshaAllah, never find a safe spot in this dunya or aakhirah, and will and should InshaAllah die a painful death each day, they will never be content with anything and they should never find peace in anything they do. May they self destruct and keep away from innocent souls and self combust and kill each other off and never inhabit this earth, neither their children or ideologies.
InshaAllah, they will never be able to kill this nation, or its spirit, bi-izhnillah, they will never finish us. We are stronger than their worst nightmares. We are stronger than their worst nightmares.
They will perish. There will be an end.