Mian Sharif This letter goes out to you from a very bemused Indian. The same group of people, and a very large group that, who empathised with your countrymen. We cried because we felt your children were also ours. Your blood spilled was ours spilled. Our hearts pained when your mothers shed the same tears ours shed. When your fathers wept the same way ours did. Silently. Helplessly. We stood beside you in unison, understanding fully that the people of Pakistan and the Government were two different identities. We stood beside both of you.We have been backstabbed before. We know that. We have been betrayed. We remember that too. We have been cut, bruised, wounded to a point of senselessness. We still did feel for you. We stood, right there beside you, with our hands holding you. In a warm embrace. And for a moment we felt you were beginning to understand the pain. For a moment. You talked tough, as tough as you are allowed to be. You said you will not differentiate between a good and a bad Taliban. You said you will encourage hot pursuit. You said there will be no talks. Only revenge. Anhillation. For a moment it all did last. The sparkle in our eyes. The almost smile on our faces.And then you released Lakhwi. The same individual who proudly chest thumped his role in the 26/11 Mumbai massacre. You released him for want of evidence. Hafeez Sayeed, architect in principle, mass murderer , LEnfant terrible roams around freely on your streets. He has a bounty on his head. Yet he travels light. Because you provide him with the wherewithal. He spouts hatred on India. Talks of dismembering us. You do nothing. For he is beyond your definition of a bad terrorist. He is an asset. Dawood Ibrahim, Syed Sallahuddin...the list is long Mian. Very long. What would you do to them. Would you pull them out of their lavish hiding holes and treat them as evil. Or nurture them. For our sake. That you will never win a bloody war with us was never in doubt. Using them as force multipliers would only increase your chances of getting burnt. Remember, in a hole full of snakes, you do not kill them individually. You burn the entire hole. And Pakistan is a sink hole. Trapped in a quicksand. Surrounded by a mirage of a civilization that could have been. Food for thought, Mian. You cannot train a snake whom to bite. It bites everyone. Time is a great healer. But time is a grand finisher too. It heals the anger but tempers the hatred. Wipes the tears but nurtures the wound. That is what time has done to us. And very much like those innocent 120, we have our own countless. Felled indiscriminately, by your assets. Scarring us for ever. We will weep for your child. But remember, we are also training ours to stand up and protect. If that would mean burning your snake pit, so be it. The bemused Indian is now very very angry. Or disgust is it. Yours forever neighbor Civilization
Posted on: Thu, 18 Dec 2014 17:49:00 +0000