Watching it on TV was a truly horrifying experience. If I invest two hours in anything I expect something or to be more precise – results. What the result would be is debatable. What if I have a child and given 10 years of my life to the child? In the end, some obscure teacher from any maniacal background enters into his life, bangs his head with another fellow student in the fit of lunacy. And noting is left for the psychopath to bang again.
What is the child’s crime? O! The child has bunked school to evade the ruthless beating of the same teacher. Ultimately all that is left is my child’s lifeless body in my arms. How am I supposed to behave?
I could not shrug off that image; the small bodies of helpless children. The wretched father was cuddling his son’s body. He could enfold only one at a time.
Life is not already smiling at him. The surroundings reveal his background. Maybe he won’t get the luxury of grieving for his sons in peace and seclusion. Every-day’s struggle would drag him back to work. At the end of the day, maybe when his aching and tired body would demand a well earned rest, his heart would clamor for the sound of his lost sons. Hitherto annoying voices. But now…
He might make one desperate plea to God to hear to the daily squabble of his small sons, their raised voices or cute ridiculous talks. Just one more time! He may promise God ‘it’ as his last wish. Perhaps then his aching body would put him to a dreamless sleep.
I will continue with my daily routine till I see another ghastly news and think of taking it out on my blog, confusing myself as a fine, sensitive, empathetic human being.
