Afghanistan Times
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It is yet another incident of terror. Wednesday brought another story of terror and grief. When the heartless Taliban don’t spill the blood of innocent Afghan civilians they cannot sleep well. On Wednesday, a suicide bomber blew his car up in front of the Ministry of Finance in the capital city, and unleashed a new wave of terror and bloodshed. Hospital sources say that seven people have been killed and 36 others injured. Of this bitter tragedy, one feels as if it will never amend.
Caught in the pit of despair, this land looks much terrifying. The streets, markets, roads and valleys are blood-stained. There is a strange smell of blood all around. When Afghan blood is spilled in the streets, roads and mosques, and we show dry eyes. We are long way off from victory over terrorism.
Here every wrinkling-face, sunken eyes have a tale to narrate but who cares and listens. People are being stoned, girls are being raped, civilians are being kidnapped, children are barred from education, and youngsters are being pushed into forced labor. What is left? And at last what has come to this land—once a land of civilization and greatest traditions. At that time the world used to look at us with covet and now they look at us with contempt and abhorrence. In this blood-dripping land there is too much to cry over. But is crying the solution? Every day dawns with a new tale of horror. And a new episode is unrolled. Every sunset leaves behind so many tragic stories of cruelties, injustices and brutalities. The protas (protagonists) look antas (antagonists) and the antas look protas. Knowing that who is really who has become enigma. In this play we lost an entire generation. Yet the play is not over. It’s running as ever. It has just been changing the episodes and phases. O Writer of this play of blood-spill is there any full stop and end to it as we the humans have lost confidence in human. Our land has become where people feel fear of people. Will this situation ever turn? And will the situation be good and human-friendly? Today the people of this land live under a constant shadow of fear, where all that belongs to them is under threat. The other day, passengers were ruthlessly killed. What for? For being civilians and passengers? And for being a softer target? On Tuesday a man was beheaded. His daughters survived the horrific incident. Though the coldblooded gunmen attempted to slit their throats as well, but they survived miraculously. The incident happened in Lashkargah—the capital city of Helmand. Homes are being burnt. Markets being exploded. Turning a deaf ear and blind eye to all the tales of terror and grief has become a common practice of the political elite. And the nation is paying the price of its political elites’ tomfooleries as they started playing with world’s biggest players when they didn’t know the abc of the grand chessboard of international foreign policy games and today when they know they are hapless because their very much own house is in ruins. They cannot take this bloody game out from this land. What we could do is just to keep looking at our scars. Thanks to media for reporting our grief, national trauma, and poverty-tales. We have nonstop winded reports and breathless analyses. It makes us feel that at least someone there is out for us, who listens to us and shares our terror-stricken stories with the government and the world. When we don’t get justice, compensation or safety, it is another matter. It’s because our political system is complex and messy one.
